WHO?
by Fleuramis
Summary: When Aramis is attacked by bandits, it may permanently alter the course of his life.
1. Chapter 1

WHO?

They had camped for the night, after accomplishing part of their journey for the King to deliver some letters to the Comte de Saintonge. Tomorrow, maybe by mid-afternoon, they should arrive; then they could start back, assuming there were no return letters to wait for.

Athos had brought a small book, and after eating, was attempting to read it by the light from the campfire. Aramis was curious about what Athos was reading, as he rarely saw him doing so. He was trying to see the title without being noticeable about it. After several attempts, Athos spoke up, saying, "Aramis, come here."

Aramis was now embarrassed to be found poking into what Athos was doing, but it was too late to comment. He slowly approached his friend.

Athos looked up with an eyebrow raised, commenting, "I won't bite, you know."

Aramis plunked himself down at Athos' side with a small grin.

Then, Athos handed him the book, saying, "If you wanted to know, all you had to do was ask."

Now,Aramis was really feeling awful for putting his nose where it wasn't supposed to be. But he was also a curious man, looking down at the cover of the book. Opening it slowly, he read, 'Love has no more that he can do, Desire is buried, and my heart a faded fire.' Very surprised, his head shot back up, looking at Athos like he couldn't believe what he had just read.

"Yes, it is a book of poetry, and yes, I do enjoy it now and then; as a rule, in my room in privacy. I just felt like bringing it along today. I trust I have not shocked you too badly," he asked, with a slight smirk on his face, as if he was amused.

Aramis replied, "You know well that I enjoy a good piece of poetry in a quiet moment, but I had no idea you shared it, as well. I will not tease you any more if you wish to continue, my friend," handing the book back to him.

Athos shook his head, "No, the moment is gone. And we need to be on the road early, so we both need to turn in."

Both men were soon fast asleep, with Porthos and d'Artagnan oblivious to their conversation.

Love has no more-from His Lady's Death by Pierre de Ronsard, French poet, 1524-1585


	2. Chapter 2

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The next morning, they had saddled up and continued their journey. Porthos began teasing his friend. Your lady friends are goin' to be mighty sad while you're gone."

Aramis smiled at him, and replied, "Lady, my friend."

Porthos put his hand over his heart, pretending to be shocked. "Only one? Since when?"

Aramis just smiled good-naturedly at him, used to Porthos' bantering. Looking over, he caught Athos giving him the "you slept with the Queen" look, and the smile disappeared. Athos didn't understand why what happened had happened, and they had been uneasy with the subject ever since. Aramis would never tell anyone, including Athos, that Anne had needed loving that night, and she had sensed that he did, as well. He would also never tell a living soul that she had kissed him first. But just the same he treasured that kiss, and had many a dream, waking as well as sleeping, of that precious time they had had together, and the child growing within her at this very moment. His child.

They hadn't gone very far when Aramis' horse threw a shoe.

Athos told him, "I believe there is a village a short distance to the east. See if you can find a blacksmith who can repair the shoe, then catch up with us."

"I may get a little something to eat if there is a tavern there. Would you like me to bring back a little bread and cheese?", Aramis offered, as they had found out the hard way this morning that the food supplies they had brought had gone bad.

Porthos commented, "I wouldn't suppose there will be any pretty barmaids there?"

Aramis shot right back, " I would have no idea, my friend. I will let you know on my return. But if there are, they are not for me." Porthos now really began to wonder who had captured his friend's attention to this extent. Athos could have told him, but just stared at his retreating brother's back.

Aramis headed off on foot, leading his horse slowly out of deference to the animal's lack of a shoe, in the direction Athos had indicated, enjoying the beauty of the countryside. He always found nature to be a balm to his soul, inviting pleasant daydreams. His daydreams now always revolved the woman who had captured his heart, carrying her with him in his thoughts and prayers wherever he went.

He figured he had to be getting close to the village, as Athos had said it was a short distance, but didn't see any signs of buildings or people in the distance yet. He did see a glimmer of water to the right in the distance, thinking he could fill up his waterskin there on his return to his friends.

Then, he heard riders approaching him fast from behind. Keeping his hand near his pistol, he turned to see who was coming. They didn't look like soldiers, and farmers probably wouldn't be riding or in a group. Added to his having a growing bad feeling that they were bandits, since this was an area known for random robberies, he decided to stop and bluff his way through, as he couldn't very well try to get away without a horse to ride.

As the riders neared him, he saw about six men, heavily armed, and when they were a few yards from him, they pulled pistols. Great, he thought. I was hoping I was wrong, but men don't usually ride country roads heavily armed for no reason. Masking his growing sense of danger, he stopped and greeted them.

One of the men, a big-built black-bearded with hard eyes, ordered him, "What is your business here?"

Aramis told him, "Not that it is any of your business, but I am taking my horse to the village, as it threw a shoe."

"You all alone?", their apparent leader asked.

Aramis usually gave back as good as he got, and replied, "Do you see anyone with me?"

This was apparently the wrong answer, not sitting well with the man in charge, who nodded to his men.

Two of the men got down, came over and frisked him, removing his weapons.

"You should know better than to answer us back in that way," said the man Aramis had already dubbed Blackbeard. "Have you stayed on this road, or strayed off towards the river?"

Aramis was beginning to wonder at the types of questions he was being asked. What had they been up to that they didn't want to have been seen doing?

"I am on the King's business, and my horse threw a shoe. I am heading to the village to see about getting it reshod. Would you happen to know if there is a blacksmith there?", he replied, without answering the question he had been asked.

Before Aramis even knew what they were about to do, one of the men who had relieved him of his weapons, hit him on the back of the head with his pistol, and Aramis knew no more.

The leader said, "Look at the pauldron. He's a Musketeer, and they generally don't travel alone. He probably left his comrades to get the horse shod. Take his doublet off and tie his horse to one of your saddles. Get him up on one of our horses. We need to get rid of him. We don't know if this one saw anything, as he would know better than to let us know that when he is outnumbered. We can't afford to take any chances. You know he will not like this," emphasizing 'he' as he spoke.

They loaded Aramis up on one of the horses, and took off towards the river. When they got there, they shoved him off the horse at the edge of the embankment, and watched as he tumbled his way down the steep incline until his body reached the river, where it hit the rocks lining the water. There was no movement from him at all, and figuring the fall may well have killed him, they took off to rejoin the others.


	3. Chapter 3

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Aramis lay in a heap for quite some time. It was night when he began slowly coming to again. He moaned as his head was throbbing in pain. It took several tries before he could open his eyes, opening them to darkness. Blinking rapidly, his heart rate slowed a little as he realized he could see, that it was just nighttime. He moved his head up a little to look around, but very quickly laid it back down again as the dizziness caused by his movement almost overwhelmed him in its intensity. Slowly lifting a shaky hand to the back of his head, he winced in pain as it encountered a large bump. His hand came away soaked in blood. The rest of his body felt almost as badly as his head did.

Once more trying to lift himself up, the darkness consumed him, and he fell back on the rocks once again.

The next time he awoke, it was daylight. He looked around, not recognizing where he was. He looked down at himself, finding he was covered with dirt, leaves and dried blood. His shirt was almost torn from his back, and what was left hung in tatters. He was at the very edge of a river, lying on the rocks edging the swiftly-moving water. The rocks nearest him were bloody, and he figured he hit them, causing his injuries.

What happened, he wondered. Confused and disoriented, he slowly sat up, waiting for the dizziness to calm down. Then, pushing against a rock, he was able to get to his feet, swaying as the wound made him dizzy and nauseous with every movement. He knew he needed to find a village or at least a farm where he might get some assistance. He got about two steps, swaying like a reed in the wind, when his knees buckled and he found himself once more on the ground.

He heard a voice nearby, a man's voice. He called out, his voice a weak croak, "Please help me."

An elderly man came from the trees nearby, stopping when he saw a young man standing near the water, with his head dripping with blood and his clothed ripped and bloody.

"Who might you be, young man?", he asked.

"Is there a village near here where I might get some help for an injury, please?", Aramis asked.

The man replied, "I live in the village a short distance from here. Come with me, and I will show you", turning and heading east.

Aramis shakily got back to his feet, trying his best to follow the old man. He was stumbling as his head protested the movements. He didn't get very far before the dizziness overtook him. He fell and couldn't get up again.

The old man came back, leaning over him, and saying, "Wait here. I will get a couple of our young men to carry you into the village. There is a woman there who can help you with your injury." He took off at a much faster pace than before.

Aramis rolled over on his back, his head and body protesting his movements ferociously. He lay still, and prayed that the stranger was indeed coming back. He wasn't likely to run into strangers with bloody heads very often in this remote area, and might have decided to stay well away from what he might perceive as trouble.

Aramis gave a sigh of relief a short while later, when the stranger did come back with two well-built young men accompanying him.

The older man leaned down and gently touched his shoulder, saying, "Sir, I have brought back some help to carry you into the village."

Aramis didn't answer. The head wound was still sluggishly bleeding, and the old man felt bad that he hadn't thought to wrap a cloth around it before he left him. He did so now, and the young men lifted him up between them. Then, they set off for their village. Partway there, Aramis again lost his battle with consciousness.

When Aramis regained his senses, there was a middle-aged woman leaning over him, cleaning the wound on his head. She had slightly greying hair pulled on top of her head in a bun, and a kindly face. He didn't recognize her, and looking around, he didn't recognize his surroundings, either.

Confused, he asked, "Who are you?"

She smiled at him, saying, "My name is Amelie. And just whom do I have the pleasure of assisting today?"

Aramis opened his mouth to answer, then stopped with a frown forming on his face. Confusion engulfed him as he said very slowly, "I...I do not know, Madame."

"You do not know your name, monsieur? Do you know where you are from, or where you were going when your accident happened?"

Aramis was silent for several moments, then responded in a heartbreakingly confused voice, "I don't know. I cannot remember anything. What is wrong with me, please?", hoping she had some medical knowledge that could help him.

"I am afraid I just have experience in helping women during childbirth, monsieur. You have a nasty bump on your head. That might have caused you to forget. I think you should just rest a bit, and maybe when you awaken again, your memory will return."

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The next morning, Athos, Porthos and d'Artagnan awoke wondering just what had happened that Aramis had not rejoined them.

Athos was concerned. "It isn't that far to the village I told him about. He had plenty of time to get his horse reshod, and catch up with us."

D'Artagnan spoke up, saying, "A woman, perhaps? This is Aramis we are talking about."

Porthos replied, defending his best friend, "Aramis doesn't neglect his duty, d'Artagnan. You know that."

Athos ended the discussion by saying, "It could be somthing as simple as the blacksmith being away for the day on business. We have finished our duty for the King. Let us now see about finding Aramis." Saddling up, they set off at a gallop, hoping to get to the village Athos had directed him to, find Aramis safe, sound and probably grumbling about no blacksmith and missing Paris.

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Aramis had awakened the next morning in a good deal of pain. His head throbbed unmercifully, and his body's bruises were making themselves felt, as well. He lay there as still as possible, hoping the pain would die down, but it didn't make any difference at all, as far as he could tell.

Then, he remembered his conversation with the woman who had been taking care of him-Amelie. She had said maybe when he woke up again, he might remember more. But he didn't remember. And how could he call her name after only hearing it once, when he couldn't think of his own, the name he would have been known by since he was born? And where was he from? The old gentleman and Amelie hadn't known him, so it was likely he wasn't from the village or outlying area he was now in.

Maybe his clothes might give him a clue. He carefully moved enough to pull the blanket down and looked at himself, but realized with embarrassment that all he had on were his braies, and saw no other clothes in sight.

It was starting to really frighten him, not knowing who he was, where he was from, what he did for a living, how he got here. There were so many questions he needed answers to, but didn't know how to go about finding them.

The door opened and Amelie came in, carrying a large tray and cheerfully wishing him a good morning. She set the tray down on the table next to his bed, and helped him to sit up enough to eat. Even elevated that little caused his head to feel like it was doing cartwheels.

When he saw her reaching for the spoon, he told her, "Please, I can feed myself."

She smiled at him, and said in reply, "I very much doubt it, monsieur. Would you please humor me this morning, and let me do this for you?"

Seeing that she really wished to assist him, he sighed and nodded. Her smile broadened, dipping the spoon into the warm porridge sweetened with apples and honey and feeding him. He sighed in contentment at the warm, rich taste. It was very good. Someone here knew how to cook!

Finishing the porridge, Amelie got him to drink down a full goblet of water. By this time, even this little exertion had tired him out. His eyelids began to close, so Amelie eased him back down on the pillow, and turned to leave.

Aramis surprised her by smiling and saying, "Thank you for your care of me, are an angel."

He slept for most of the day, exhausted still from his fall. Waking again near suppertime, he again was disappointed that he still could not remember anything. When Amelie came in, he asked her, "Do you still have the clothes I was wearing when I came here?",still hoping maybe the sight of them might spark a memory.

Amelie crossed to the chest of drawers near the window, and opening a drawer, brought out some clothes. She hesitantly brought them to him, seeing how eager he was to look at them, and knowing why.

But when he saw them, he stared, not realizing the clothes would be in the shape they were in. The shirt was just tatters, useless to wear and even more useless to recognize. The breeches were,surprisingly, leather, and aside from a few scrapes, still in good shape. Had he really worn leather? What did he do for a living that he wore leather? The boots were of leather, but that was common for boot material, so no surprise there.

He asked Amelie, "Is this all? Did I have a doublet or a hat? Any jewelry?"

She just shook her head, saying, "Not when you arrived on my doorstep, monsieur."

Aramis was so dejected he hardly knew what to say. He was at his wit's end to know where or how to learn his identity. And how did he end up at the bottom of a steep embankment, lying on the river's rocks? His life was a mystery that he didn't know how to solve.


	4. Chapter 4

I'm sorry I didn't get this new chapter out more quickly. Life got in the way! I hope you enjoy.

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Back at the grounds belonging to the Comte of Saintonge, "Blackbeard" was meeting with the Comte's estate manager, Mattieu.

"Someone may have seen Nicolas with that woman, and you didn't make sure he was dead?" Mattieu fumed. "We have been told to protect the Saintonge name at all costs. The Comte deplores what his younger brother seems to like to do to any woman who catches his fancy, but he does not want the ancient Saintonge name dragged through the courts. We are to take care of any possible witnesses whenever they crop up."

"Blackbeard" retorted, "The man fell down a steep embankment, which would cause him to sustain injuries. Then, he slammed into the rocks below. He wouldn't have survived."

Mattieu was not convinced. "Go back to that area, and find out. The body should still be laying there, if he died. If it isn't, search until you find him-and take care of the problem once and for all. And while you are at it, if he does still live, find out if he told his friends what he saw. If he did, you have more than one problem to take care of. Do not disappoint Saintonge again. He is not pleasant when he is upset, as you well know."

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Athos, Porthos and d'Artagnan were not far away from the little village Athos had sent Aramis towards, when they saw a figure stumbling along the road ahead of them. They could see that it was a woman, and she was barely able to keep walking, as if she was sick or injured.

When they reached her, she cried out in fear, and tried with all her strength to run off the road into the trees, but fell instead.

Porthos jumped from his horse to assist her, but she screamed weakly when he tried to lift her to her feet again. Breaking from his grasp unexpectedly, she tried to run once again, but fell on her face in the road. They once again gently lifted her to her feet.

He tried to soothe her, saying, "We are King's Musketeers, Madame. We are not going to hurt you." Up close, he could now see bruises covering her face and upper arms. Someone had obviously attacked her recently.

She still weakly struggled, still not knowing whether to trust them. She was obviously in total fear of whoever had attacked her, and in her confused state, couldn't grasp that they wanted to help her. She kept saying, "Please, let me go. You got what you wanted. Please leave me alone."

D'Artagnan tried speaking to her, asking, "Are you from the village? Is that the direction you were going? That is where we are going also. We can take you there, if you would like."

She didn't answer, just shaking her head wearily, as what little strength she possessed was being depleted by her struggles to free herself.

Athos tried speaking to her next. "Madame, we will not hurt you. Did someone attack you? We have not seen anyone, but we will protect you with our lives. You are completely safe with us."

At that, she finally broke down and cried. "He tried to ...force me. I tried so ... so hard to stop ... him. He ... hit me... over and ...over. I hurt," sobbing so hard her whole body was shaking.

Their hearts went out to her. They would get her help in the village, and see how Aramis was coming along with his horse. Then, they would find this vile man, and bring him to justice.

She allowed them to lift her to her feet, and Porthos asked her if it would be all right if he lifted her up onto d'Artagnan's horse to ride the small distance to the village. She nodded hesitantly, wavering on her feet even with their support.

For all his great size and strength, Porthos lifted her so gently up before d'Artagnan, then he and Athos mounted, and they were once again on their way to the village.

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Riding into the village, one of the first things they noticed was that there was no blacksmith shop. It wasn't hard to recognize, as the village was very small, consisting of one street. So where was their comrade?

They head for the village tavern, and asked both the barkeeper and the patrons if anyone had seen a young, handsome man in a Musketeer uniform. No one seemed to know anything about a new face appearing in the village. Frowning in the unease of not having any idea where next to look for Aramis, they decided next to find out if there was a doctor for the young woman they had found. They were told there was no doctor, only a midwife living at the last small cottage on the western edge of the village. So that is where they headed.

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Finding the cottage, Porthos knocked on the door. A smiling middle-aged woman with greying hair answered the knock promptly.

Porthos asked her, " Would you be able to care for a young woman who we found on the road near the village? She has been attacked by someone, and is pretty bruised up. We do not know if there are any other injuries," leaving unsaid their fear that she may also have been sexually assaulted before the man abandoned her on the road.

The woman came outside, and introduced herself to the Musketeers as Amelie. She then went to the woman she could see astride d'Artagnan's horse. Between her and Porthos, they got her gently down from the horse. The woman was able to stay on her feet, leaning on Amelie heavily.

Amelie said to them, "Thank you so much for rescuing this poor woman. I will take good care of her. She can stay here until she is better. Whoever attacked her will never know she is here, of that I will make certain."

Athos, who had been rather quiet since they had arrived at the cottage, told her, "We appreciate your kind offer to take her in, even not knowing who she is or where she is from. We are going to continue a mission in this area, and will return to see how she is doing before we leave to return to Paris. Good day to you, Madame Amelie."

Turning, they headed back out of town, intent on searching for any sign of their missing brother, completely unaware of just how close to them they had been.

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Aramis had been asleep when his brothers had come. When he awakened, Amelie was at his bedside, laying a cold cloth on his forehead. She also had her medical supplies by her side, and Aramis uneasily asked, "You are going to change the dressings?", knowing somehow that it would be a painful process for him.

She told him, "I will make it as painless as I can, young man."

As she worked, she told him about the young woman she had taken in that afternoon. She told him the woman was in another room sleeping, and that she had been attacked a small distance from the village. Some travelers had found her, and brought her to her cottage after hearing she had some small medical knowledge.

"It was very lucky these kind men found her. She was bruised and very shaken. I have also since discovered that her attacker had assaulted her in another way also, and it has left her mind shocked from her ordeal. The men promised to check back to see how she was before they left the area. They had something they to do around the area first. Maybe you will meet them then."

Aramis was in some pain from Amelie's ministrations, despite her efforts to distract him to make the process less arduous for him. She was already growing quite fond of this unknown "lodger", and wished with all her heart that she could assist him in finding his identity, but she had no idea what she could do. Her heart went out to him, in his confusion and pain.

When she had finished with the dressings, she gave him an herbal concoction she had mixed together, so he would be in a little less pain and also be able to sleep more easily-without the bad dreams she had heard him thrashing about from earlier.


	5. Chapter 5

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The Musketeers halted outside of the village to decide what to do about finding Aramis. , or run into foul play of some kind. The problem was where to start their search when they were so woefully missing any clues at all to their missing brother's whereabouts.

They figured the only thing they could do is backtrack, from where Aramis had left them and all along the road to the village. Talking amonst themselves, they found that all three of them had a very bad feeling that Aramis was in danger or injured-or both.

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Blackbeard and his band went straight back to the steep embankment off of which they had thrown Aramis. Climbing down was no easy task, they found out. When they reached the bottom, they found dried blood on the rocks at the river's edge, but no body.

"Now, did he revive and take himself off, did someone find him, or did he fall into the river and get carried away?," mused Blackbeard. "Fan out and see what we can find. The Comte will not be happy if we do not take care of this matter. He has his centuries-old reputation to consider," he added in a tone that told his men what he thought of his noble master's reputation.

He split his men up, half on each side of the riverbank. They began combing through the grass and rocks for any clues in their search for the deceased or revived Musketeer.

Athos and his companions had barely left the village when they spotted a large body of men combing the banks of the river they could see from the road. Reining in, they moved into the shelter of the trees and watched for a little while quietly, keeping very still so they didn't attract any attention. But the men seemed only intent upon whatever they were looking for.

The group finally seemed to realize it was a fruitless search, and began to climb back up the embankment, only for one man to suddenly shout to get their attention. Blackbeard called out, "What did you find?"

The man answered back, "Bloody tracks, then nothing. But a little farther on, three sets of feet obviously carrying something, as the tracks are deeper in the dirt. I think someone found him and took him to the village over yonder."

The men were still unaware that they were heard, as they remounted and took off for the village Athos had originally sent Aramis to.

All three of them had heard every word. They were very worried that the someone the men were searching for was Aramis. Unfortunately, the group they had overheard had a small head start on them, as they had walked some distance from their horses. When they reachec their horses, without a word, they mounted and took off after the body of men.

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Blackbeard and his men galloped into the village, their horses' hooves thundering and kicking up dust. Stopping at the tavern, Blackbeard dismounted with one of his men and went inside to inquire if anyone had seen a stranger in the past 2 days. They noticed that everyone was shaking their heads except for one young man in the corner. Heading over towards him, they asked again.

The young man, one of the two men the older man had brought to carry Aramis into the village, asked them, "What would you be wanting with him?"

Blackbeard drew his pistol, and replied, "It is none of your business what we want with him. By your answer, you have revealed that you do know something, so if you want to live longer, you will tell us now."

The young man, thoroughly frightened now, told them what they wanted to know, and they took off immediately. He ran out after them, and a few minutres later, saw yet another group of strangers riding very quickly through the village. They saw him, and how scared he looked, and came to a halt. D'Artagnan dismounted, and asked him, "Have you seen a group of rough-looking men come into town?"

The poor man was so eager to tell them which way the band had gone. He felt completely guilty succumbing to the man's threats and telling them what they wanted to do, as he could tell they were bad men and meant harm to the injured man they were after. He said, "Please, follow me! Hurry!", running down the street towards Amelie's cottage.

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Aramis became restless during his sleep, tossing his head to and fro. Amelie came in, leaning over and saying softly, "You are all right, young man. You are just having a bad dream. Come on, wake up now. I have some broth for you. That's it. Open your eyes."

Aramis slowly woke up, slightly disoriented. Looking around, he gradually remembered that he was staying with Amelie. Smiling up at her, he said, "I am hungry."

"Good! Here you go," she said, plumping up his pillow so he could sit up a little while eating.

She no sooner laid the bowl of broth on the table next to the bed, than they both heard a door slammed against a wall in the front of the cottage. A very big, black-bearded man appeared in the doorway to Aramis' room, flanked by several more rough-looking men.

"Well, what do you know? He did survive, boys,", the leader said. "Take him!"

Amelie angrily shouted at them, "How dare you? Leave him alone! Can't you see he is injured?", only to be shoved to one side and falling to the floor.

Aramis was thoroughly confused with what was going on. He had never seen these men before in his life, as far as he knew. Two of the men came forward, and grabbing him by the arms, dragged him out of bed and towards the front door. Amelie was screaming for them to leave him alone, but the totally disregarded her.


	6. Chapter 6

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As they came out the front door, however, they saw three men on horses racing towards them, with thunderous looks on their faces and pistols in their hands. Blackbeard pulled his main gauche, and laid it against Aramis' throat, causing the Musketeers to come to a dead halt.

"Stay back, or you will have one very dead friend," he snarled at them, punctuating his threat by pushing slightly on his knife, causing blood to appear on Aramis' neck. "You are going to let us leave peaceably now!"

"You have no idea how sorry you will be if you harm him any more than you already have," a deadly calm-voiced Athos stated.

Aramis' brothers were at a standstill. If they moved forward even an inch, the man would cut Aramis' throat. If they let them leave, the men could very well still kill Aramis after they got away, if they were the ones who had injured him in the first place. From what they had overheard at the river, their suspicions were that Aramis might have seen something illegal that they did, and they needed to get rid of their witness.

They found assistance from an unexpected source, though. While Blackbeard's men were focused on the Musketeers, Amelie came through the front door swinging a poker from her fireplace at the backs of Blackbeard's legs. Howling in pain, he dropped the dagger on the ground.

Athos, Porthos and d'Artagnan instantly jumped off their horses and attacked. The two who had been holding Aramis dropped him to the ground, and took off around the side of the cottage, with Athos and d'Artagnan in hot pursuit. Blackbeard and the other two men who had still been in the house, however, slipped through the house, out a back window and took off.

Porthos leapt from his horse, and ran to Aramis, who was crumpled up on the ground. Lifting him up gently, he carried him back into Amelie's cottage. Amelie directed him to lay Aramis down on the bed, and knelt beside him to check him for any additional injuries.

"At least, his head wasn't injured any further from those men. He had a terrible concussion when he was brought here. He also had broken ribs. The drag across the floor probably aggravated them. It doesn't feel like anything new, other than more bruises to add to all the ones he already had. Poor man."

Porthos looked at her and said, "We were here earlier with the young woman. Was Aramis here then?"

Amelie was looking at Aramis and saying, "So that is his name."

"You mean he didn't tell you who he was?" Porthos asked, confusion clear in his face.

"He couldn't. He doesn't remember who he is," Amelie replied, shocking Porthos to the core of his being. Aramis didn't know who he was?

After a moment, she asked him, "Besides his name, who is he?"

Porthos slowly answered, "He is, as we are, a King's Musketeer, the Royal Family's personal guard. He is also the best marksman in France, and the best friend a man could ever have," looking down with such affection at Aramis that Amelie knew Aramis was incredibly blessed to have him as a friend.

She told him, "I believe he lost his memory as a result of his head hitting the rocks by the river with such force. We do not know how he ended up down there, but that is where one of the people of our village found him."

"He has been so bewildered by what has happened to him. He does not remember any part of his past. He has tried looking over his clothes, but that didn't seem to spark any memories. He is so forlorn, and I do not know how to help him to remember. I am not medically trained. I just assist women to have their babies."

Aramis began to restlessly move his head from side to side, trying to sit up at one point. Porthos softly but firmly laid his hands on his friend's shoulders, and then started rubbing gentle circles on them, saying, "Just lie still, Aramis. It's Porthos. We've found you, and you're safe now. Go to sleep, brother."

Porthos was slowly seething inside at what had happened to his friend. Obviously, the men they had run off had something to do with Aramis' injuries, which also resulted in his loss of memory. Right now, he wanted to get his hands on them personally, and they would live to regret what they had done.

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Athos and d'Artagnan caught up to the two fleeing men shortly after they left the village. The men were no match for the two Musketeers' fighting skills, and they were subdued in a few moments. Tying their hands, they were ordered to sit down on the ground.

Athos then began questioning them. "Who do you work for?" Silence met his question, the set of the men's mouths indicating they intended to be stubborn in refusing to answer.

"What reason did you have to take the man at Amelie's house?" The same stubborness met his second question.

D'Artagnan then began playing a game they used sometimes to trick information from prisoners. "Why don't I just shoot one of them? Maybe the other one will talk if he sees we mean business?"

Athos shrugged, as if to say it didn't matter if they got rid of one of them. The two men cast worried looks at each other, not sure what to do.

D'Artagnan pulled his pistol out and began making a pretence of aiming first at one, then the other of the two men. "I can't decide which one deserves to die first," he said.

Athos replied, as if he was bored, "How about him?" indicating the sandy-haired man to the left.

"Sounds good to me," d'Artagnan answered, as he sighted his pistol at the indicated man.

Athos and d'Artagnan were so convincing, that the sandy-haired man was panicking. "You can't do this? You are a Musketeer!"

D'Artagnan answered, "Who do you think the law is going to believe-ummm?"

The man blurted out, "Moreau gets his orders. We just carry them out?"

Athos spoke up, "Who is Moreau? And why is it legal to commit murder on an unknown someone's orders?"

The man replied, "Moreau is our leader, the one with the black beard. He reports to the one who pays us, and we follow his orders."

Athos asked, "Who pays you? And remember, you are speaking to a representative of the law here."

D'Artagnan chimed in, "This isn't getting us anywhere," and cocked his pistol, still aiming at the sandy-haired man.

"All right, all right,", he shouted. "We were ordered to take the man at the midwife's house because he had been a witness to something."

"And what might that be?" Athos continued.

"If I tell you, I will be next to die," replied the man.

"You may be much sooner than you think, if you do not answer our questions," Athos threatened. "We want to know now who you work for, and why our friend is being targeted. You have one minute."

"He saw our benefactor's brother raping a woman...", the man began, when a shot rang out from a nearby stand of trees. Their prisoner slumped over, a bullet in his chest.

D'Artagnan checked his pulse, but shook his head. "He's dead."

They both took off towards the trees, but found no one when they got there. There were some boot tracks, but they led to a horse's prints. Whoever had taken the shot was gone. But they knew it was either Moreau or his sidekick, getting rid of evidence.

Going back to the remaining prisoner, they got him on his feet and went back into the village. At Amelie's cottage, they found a shed out back, and locked the man inside, intending to interrogate him further once they had found out how Aramis was.

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Aramis gradually came back to consciousness. As he slowly tried to open eyelids that were weary and reluctant, he saw a large figure to the left of him. His last conscious moments were of a knife at his throat and being flung to the ground. He flinched when the figure laid his hand on his shoulder.

"Aramis-it's all right. It's Porthos. Easy, brother."

The words confused Aramis. The figure was becoming much clearer, but it was a stranger. Was he with the men who had roughed him up? But his words and actions were gentle and caring, as if he knew him.

"Who are you?" he asked the stranger. Aramis watched in bewilderment as the stranger's eyes filled with tears.

"Don't ya know me-me, Aramis?", his voice full of pain and anguish.

"Is that my name? Do you know me? Who are you?" Aramis asked again, his confusion and frustration written on his face.

Then, two more men entered the room. Aramis watched as they came to stand beside the bed behind the first man, who leaned back and seemed to be whispering something to them.

One of the men stepped closer to the bed, saying, "It is all right, Aramis. We understand that you have been through quite an ordeal. We will explain things, but for now, try to get some more rest." Laying his hand gently on Aramis' shoulder, he stepped back, and all three men left the room so that Amelie could change the dressing on his ribs. Aramis was asleep before she finished.


	7. Chapter 7

I'm so sorry for the long delay in the next chapter. I was dealing with a horrendous toothache, which didn't help my concentration for writing.

I have had a couple of private questions that Aramis would never forget Porthos. But researching amnesia online, people have been known to completely forget their family members, including brothers and sister and husbands and wives. It isn't that they want to. This is a trauma an amnesiac person goes through. It is why Athos says what he does in this chapter.

Please enjoy and let me know what you think. And thanks so much for your encouragement, your likes, favorites, follows, etc. It is greatly appreciated!

When they had left the room, Athos told d'Artagnan to go over to the tavern and see if someone there would ride to Paris to let Treville know what had happened. Hopefully, he would also send some men to assist in finding and apprehending the villains who had done this to Aramis. Then, he sat down next to Porthos, who was looking totally bereft from his talk with Aramis. He couldn't understand how Aramis could forget who he, who they were.

Athos didn't understand either, but said, "It isn't a choice he made, Porthos. This was done to him through a vicious and brutal attack. His head suffered a traumatic blow, and maybe when the swelling and pain go down, it will be easier for him to remember things. We just need to be there for him, because this is going to be far more difficult and painful for him than it is for us, hard as that may seem. To wake up not knowing anything at all about oneself has got to be a severe shock to his mind. Amelie said he has been very frustrated at his loss of memory. He has no past right now, and his present is filled with confusion."

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Athos and Porthos returned to the man they had locked up in Amelie's shed, and tried interrogating him. But the man refused to say anything. Having seen that he would be killed by the men he had been working with, he was too afraid of them to confess now.

D'Artagnan soon returned, and all three of them came to sit by Aramis' bedside. When he awoke again, he found the three men who had been there before. Confusion once again showed in his eyes, as he asked, "Who are you? Do you know me?"

Athos replied, "You have had a terrible accident. You fell down a steep embankment and hit the rocks along the riverbank. We think the reason you do not remember anything is because you also hit your head very hard on the rocks, and that caused a lack of memory. Maybe when the pain and swelling from your injury goes down, you will begin to remember things.

You asked who you are and if we know you. We can answer any questions you would like to ask us. Your name is Aramis, you are a King's Musketeer, and you are our dearest friend and brother," and as he said this last, Porthos and d'Artagnan smiled and emphatically nodded their heads to him.

Athos could see his brothers hoping some part of what he had said might trigger something in Aramis' memory, but looking into Aramis' eyes, he could see the confusion still evident there.

Aramis was quiet for a few minutes, then slowly said,"I don't remember. I can see that you seem sincere in what you are telling me. I just feel like my mind is completely blank. I have no past, clouds in my present, and because of that I cannot look forward to my future." As he said this, tears began forming in his eyes. He was so hopelessly forlorn, and his friends didn't know how to help him. They had never experienced anything remotely like this before. They also had no medical training to understand any of it.

They could see that their visit had tired him out. His eyelids were getting heavier as he spoke.

Athos asked him, "Do you mind if one or more of us stays in the room with you while you are here? It has always been our way when one of us is sick or injured. We need to be near him. But it is up to you. We will not do anything you do not want us to do, Aramis."

Aramis was again silent for a moment, and then, looking at each of them said, "Please?"

Athos and d'Artagnan left whe Aramis finally fell asleep. Once outside the room, d'Artagnan asked, in a very sad voice, "Why can't he remember us? It hurts so much to not see any recognition in his eyes."

Athos said to him much of what he had told Porthos, "This is far worse for him, d'Artagnan. Can you imagine waking up injured, helpless, and not knowing who you are or where you are at? It would be rather frightening. Add to that having men attempt to hurt him again, and it has to be terrible for him. We need to be with him as much as possible, sharing things we have done, giving him a picture he can build upon hopefully. We are all feeling his pain. It tears me apart seeing him this way, but we have to be strong, and we definitely cannot let him see how traumatic it is for us. I'm not sure what it would do to him to see us downcast or full of despair. He needs positive attitudes and a sense of calm from us right now. We can give him that."

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Aramis slept for several hours, but it was a very troubled sleep. Porthos was sitting with him,so he noticed when Aramis began thrashing about, saying, "Nobody. No ... name. Nobody," this last in such a heartwrenching way that Porthos' eyes filled with tears for his friend. He almost didn't notice when Porthos and d'Artagnan, who had awoken hearing his cries, came to the bedside along with Amelie. They each laid a hand gently on their brother, letting him know they were there for him, whether he remembered them or not.

Porthos looked up at them, saying softly, "I wish right now I was a doctor. Maybe then I'd know how to help 'im through thisI

Athos spoke up, saying, "I do not know if even they know that much about the human mind to work through this. We will not leave him alone for a moment, and we can share our stories with him, tell him about himself. It may help to jog his memory the more he hears of his past. But we have to be prepared, as hard as it will be, to accept him as he is now if he does not remember. He needs us more than ever now. And we need to keep a lookout for these ruffians who tried to take him away."

D'Artagnan asked, "Why are they after him? then pausing, said, "I wonder if it could have anything to do with the woman we brought her, the one who was attacked. That would definitely be something that a man would try to cover up. He would be hung if found out."

"That would definitely be worth investigating. At least one of us will stay with Aramis at all times, and the others will begin checking out what happened to her and if anyone has seen or heard anything. And maybe if we find out the details, it could help us to fill in some pieces for Aramis, and see if his memory begins to come back."

Aramis had finally fallen into a peaceful sleep as they were talking. Athos took over for Porthos, and laid his hand in his brother's tousled hair, stroking slowly through it, while silently worried at the pain his brother was going through, physically as well as mentally. Determination filled his features as he vowed not to rest until Aramis could once again recognize his family.


	8. Chapter 8

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Later that day, Aramis woke from a nightmareless sleep, his first since being injured. Slowly opening his eyes, he beheld - he stopped - Athos, that was the man's name, nodding next to his bed. "I knew him before," he thought. "This man and the other two obviously care very much about me. Why can't I remember them?" These thoughts caused tears to fill his eyes. Would he never get his memory back?

Just dwelling on this thought caused the migraine he invariably woke up with to spike, causing him to groan aloud. It wasn't very loud, but Athos awoke immediately, concerned that Aramis was in pain. Before his injury, he would protest vehemently whenever he was injured and one of his brothers tasked him with the fact. "I'm fine," was always his reply. Athos thought, "What I wouldn't give to hear him say this just once now."

Filling a cup with water from the copper pitcher Amelie had thoughtfully left on the table beside the bed, Athos said to Aramis, "Would you like some water, Aramis?" All three of his friends had decided among themselves to use his name as often as they could, hoping maybe hearing it over and over would bring him back.

Receiving a weary nod, Athos gently lifted Aramis' head and shoulders a little way, and held the cup to his lips to drink. Aramis finished the cup, and surprised him by saying, "I'm hungry?"

Athos nodded, and left the room for a moment to ask Amelie if she could prepare something. Coming back, he smiled as Aramis was still awake, as he had been sleeping almost continually since they had found him. He did have that slight frown again, his eyes fixed on Athos almost as though he felt if he looked hard enough at each of them he would force his memory to return.

"Aramis, would you like me to share some of our time together with you?" Athos asked hesitantly.

"Please?", Aramis replied, the second time he had used the slight supplication since yesterday when they had found him.

Athos began, "Our youngest, d'Artagnan, made a very dramatic entrance into our lives. Before, it had always been the three of us, you, me and Porthos. D'Artagnan showed up at the garrison one day demanding I fight a duel with him, saying I had killed his father. None of us could get through to him to stop fighting as I had nothing to do with his father's murder. He ended up trying to fight all three of us at once, despite the fact that, unbeknownst to us, he was injured while doing so. But he ended up helping you and Porthos prove my innocence after I had been accused of the killing. We grew to love him as one of us, just as he returned the same love to us."

While he had been relating this story to Aramis, Athos watched for any sign that it was opening up any avenue of memory for him, and his heart clenched and he sighed as he could see that the same confusion and frustration remained in his eyes.

Amelie came in a few moments later with a bowl of chicken broth and some freshly baked bread for Aramis. Athos took it from her with a sad smile, and she understood completely how much emotional hurt he was in, smiling at him in return.

As Aramis accepted spoonfuls of brother and bites of bread from Athos, his mind silently kept asking, "Why can't I remember? It's obvious how much they care, and it's like I'm rejecting them. I don't want to do that." He smiled as he finished eating, trying to show his appreciation for what Athos was doing, both sharing and helping him to eat. Athos tried to smile back, but the heartache glimmered in his eyes as he did so.

Feeling tired once more, his eyes closed in sleep, as Athos pulled the blanket farther up, then left the room sadly.

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Porthos was beside him when he awoke the next time. He was confused why he remembered each of them's names after only hearing them once or twice, when he couldn't remember his own. Everything was so strange and distorted for him now.

Porthos smiled as soon as he saw Aramis' eyes open. "About time you woke up, sleepyhead," he told him.

"You want anything, you just ask, you hear?"

Aramis smiled in return, almost hoping Porthos would share stories as Athos had earlier. "Would you ..." he trailed off, as he didn't know whether to ask.

Porthos asked, "Would I what, Aramis? Just ask. There's nothing I wouldn't do for you, brother." Aramis could hear the hurt behind the comment, and wished with all his heart a light would just come on and he would be fine.

He decided to just swallow and ask. "Athos was sharing things about ... about ... us when he was here earlier. Would you..."

" There's nothing I'd rather do. You want serious, heroic, silly, outrageous?"

"We were all those things?"

"Of course, Aramis. 'Specially the two of us. Athos and Treville - he's our Captain, ok? We musta given 'em quite a few grey hairs these past few years," laughing out loud as he said this.

Aramis, curious, said, "If you don't mind, the outrageous one, please?" Porthos noticed that even though Aramis couldn't remember his past or any of his brothers, his way of speech was still the same, still as polite as he ever had been.

"All right. How 'bout the melons?" Porthos didn't think it would necessarily make Aramis remember by beginning that way, but it was just his way of being as lighthearted as he could for his brother.

That statement really made Aramis eyebrows lift. What could he possibly relate about melons?

"Every once in a while, not often, mind, we would entertain the patrons of whatever tavern we happened to be at. You'd put a melon on your head, preen with your mustache, give me th' go ahead, 'n then stand very still. I'd shoot the melon off your head, while everyone went kinda crazy seeing it work. 'Course, it would only work if I'd taken a little too much of the bottle b'fore I did it," laughing again at the memories.

Aramis could see that the situation would have been very dramatic and, for Porthos, funny, as well. He wanted so much to picture himself with a yellow melon on his head, entertaining everyone, being with his friends, laughing, joking. But in his mind, there was still nothing of his past.

Porthos was hurting inside, the same as Athos was before, that Aramis still couldn't remember. But he was determined not to hurt him more by letting him know just how much it hurt. He reminded himself how grateful he was that Aramis was alive, as he had seen the embankment his friend had fallen down-and the rocks he had hit. He very well could have lost his beloved brother permanently, so having him alive in front of him now was still a blessing he was very thankful for. If it took all the time in the world to share and help his memory return, he was willing to give that time. He loved his brother very much, and he would be there for him always.


	9. Chapter 9

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D'Artagnan had been wanting to spend some time with Aramis, but thought Athos and Porthos, having known him for far longer, deserved the time first. He was worried sick about his brother, as they all were. He had learned so much from Aramis. He had patiently taught d'Artagnan how to greatly improve his accuracy in shooting, both with pistols and muskets. He had mercilessly teased him about his relationship with Constance, but also had given some very good advice when he and Constance had gone through hurtful misunderstandings. Something else Aramis had done was take d'Artagnan under his wing when he noticed that he was very interested in the art of healing. He had shown him how to mix together some of his pain and sleep medicines, and how to bandage someone properly depending on what type of injury they had, how to coax grown men to follow his medical 'orders' instead of stubbornly refusing. He didn't know how he would cope if these men harmed or killed his beloved brother.

He finally had a chance the next evening, when Athos asked if he would take over for a little while. He was more than eager to do so.

Sitting at Aramis' bedside, he suddenly felt at a loss for words. Aramis could see that d'Artagnan was hesitant, and said, "You don't really have to say anything, d'Artagnan. It is just so wonderful having you sitting with me. I am so sorry I do not remember any of you. I can see that all of you must care very much for me,and it humbles me to realize that. I will keep on trying to remember, not only for my sake, but for yours. Athos and Porthos shared stories of my life. Would you care to do the same?"

D'Artagnan was quiet for a few moments. He thought of all the things he could share, and then just wanted to share something light-hearted, unwittingly relating just the kind of story Porthos had shared earlier, both of them cherishing the banter and laughter of their friendship.

"You and Constance-he realized then that Aramis would not know who he was speaking of. Constance and I ... she is very special to me. You and she did not get started very well, Aramis."

Aramis looked at d'Artagnan, not having any idea what he was telling him, but interested, because of how d'Artagnan was hesitating to share.

"The first time I ever saw you speak to her, she slapped your face - hard," he blurted out. Then, he laughed. "The piece of apple you had just bit off didn't stay with you, either." He laughed harder.

"Then, she did it again not long after that day. You didn't seem to impress her as you did so many other women." Aramis' eyebrows went up at this comment. "I have never seen anything like it, Aramis. Women just ... like you. A lot." There was a long pause. "That's why Constance's reactions to your comments were so shocking to me. But you seemed to just take it in stride, like you respected her for sticking up for herself. She grew to respect you, as well. She could see that beneath the manner you sometimes put on was a man who deeply cared about others, even putting their welfare above his own."

Aramis was silent, wishing so badly he could bring this past back to his present. These men really loved him, and he could tell they were going through pain as he was. He prayed for that blessing, and that it could be soon that he could give that to them as well as himself. He had not lost the gift of prayer when he had lost so much else, and it was a comfort to him in an otherwise bleak outlook.

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Athos belatedly thought about the man they had locked up in Amelie's shed. His mind had been focused totally on his brother. Porthos had gone down to the tavern to question anyone who might have been there at the same time that the men pursuing Aramis had come in. He wanted to see if any of them recalled anything else any of the men had said. So, Athos called d'Artagnan, asking him to go check on the man (they still hadn't got as much as the man's name out of him, let alone who he worked for.)

A half hour later, he wondered what had happened to d'Artagnan, so decided to go see for himself how the man was taking their interrogations. When he got to the shed, the door was wide open, causing him to get a very uneasy feeling.

Approaching the door slowly with his pistol drawn, he heard a distinct groan coming from the darkness within. He recognized that voice!

"D'Artagnan!" he called as he slowly looked around the frame of the door. D'Artagnan was lying crumpled on the floor, his hand cradling the side of his head. Athos looked around, not seeing anyone else including their captive, in the shed, then hurried over to kneel at d'Artagnan's side.

"I'm sorry, Athos. I didn't see it coming," d'Artagnan moaned softly.

"One of our prisoner's friends came to liberate him" Athos said, as a statement, not a question. Then, another thought drowned out the voiced one, making him extremely uneasy.

"Aramis!"

Helping d'Artagnan to his feet, although the young man vigorously denied needing the help, Athos took off for the house with d'Artagnan, injury forgotten, close behind him. Both of them feared what they would find.

Reaching the house, he almost ran over Amelie, who was coming through the doorway, a hand to her face, which was bleeding from a cut on her cheek.

"They took him," she cried out. "Please, go after them. Please!"

Athos and d'Artagnan's hearts froze when they heard her say this. These men wanted to kill Aramis!

"Did you see which way they went, Madame?" Athos asked, wanting to be off in pursuit, but realizing he needed to be gentle with her at the same time, as she was injured.

"I didn't see which way they went, but I did hear their horses thundering off to the west," Amelie said.

They saddled their horses faster than they had ever done so in their lives. If these men got Aramis back to their master, he would be killed before they could ever hope to get there, and the only way they were able to follow is with the tracks of their horses. If the men crossed a river, or went over terrain that didn't leave tracks, such as rocks or stones, they would never be able to find them. Of course, the men may have had instructions to just get him to an isolated area and kill him there, too. The Musketeers just didn't know.

Flying out of town to the west, they passed a shocked Porthos, yelling "They've got Aramis!", while never slowing down.

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Aramis took a long time waking up from his sleep. When he was fully awake, he realized he was very hungry. Thinking he should call Amelie to ask for something to eat, he thought better of it as he felt she had been doing so much for him since he had been deposited in her care. Better, he thought, to just wait until one of the others came back from their errands, or whatever they had gone to do.

Then, he heard a scuffle in the other room, and Amelie's cry of pain. He was just getting himself shakily to his feet for the first time since he was injured, when several men burst into the room. Grabbing him and shoving him on the bed in haste, they tied his hands behind him and manhandled him out of the room, then out the front door. One of them mounted, and the two holding him lifted him to deposit him face down in front of their comrade. The man put a hand down hard in the small of his back when he struggled against them, effectively cutting off his attempts.

"I don't know what you want," he protested. The men just ignored him as if he had never spoken. The other men mounted, and they took off out of town, leaving a trail of dust behind as they moved in haste. They knew they had to get as fast and as far away as they could, because they knew they would have some very worried and angry Musketeers on their trail.

Aramis lay helpless across the saddle, with his captor's fist still lodged in his back to keep him still. He still had no clue as to why they were so intent on wishing him harm. Did he do something to them? He didn't see himself as a man outside the law, or someone who attacked without provocation. Did he take something that belonged to them? Again, he didn't see himself as a thief or a robber. Maybe they did something illegal? But what? He had no idea. He had no answers to his endless questions, and still no ideas to his identity. But that identity could now cause his death.

He turned again to prayer, somehow knowing too that he had done so many times before. He didn't know how he knew that , but it came so naturally to him, without even thinking about it. He prayed that the men who had shown their love and care for him would get to him before it was too late.


	10. Chapter 10

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Porthos got back to Amelie's cottage as quickly as he could after hearing what his brothers said. He needed to get saddled and follow them as soon as he could. They didn't know what he had learned from a man at the tavern who had overheard Aramis' kidnappers talking as they left the tavern after finding out where he was. The men had found out from someone else in town that a young woman had been brought to Amelie soon after Aramis arrived. The man didn't know why, but this information seemed to additionally spike their haste, and they commented as they left about getting two birds with one stone. The man giving the information to Porthos hadn't known what that meant. He always found it amazing what he could learn in taverns. Men talked freely, and never gave a thought about being overheard.

Porthos entered Amelie's cottage, and she came to him immediately, saying, "The young woman is gone! After your friends left, I went to check on her, and she wasn't there. The men who took Aramis didn't have her. I don't know where she could have gone. And I found this after Athos and d'Artagnan had gone. It had been left on the bed."

The note said if the young woman was given to them, they would release Aramis in exchange.

Porthos was starting to put two and two together, and didn't like what he came up with. He was more sure now than ever that what had happened to the still anonymous young woman was what Aramis may have seen and been attacked for. These men had found out she was alive and in the village, and probably would have taken her as well, if she hadn't taken off.

What he was afraid of was that they planned to kill them both. Now, the woman was missing, and he had no idea where she would have gone in a village that was unfamiliar to her. He needed to let his brothers know this latest information.

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Aramis' body was growing more and more painful the longer he was kept across the saddle like a sack of pototoes. His ribs were nowhere healed, and the jostling was not helping them any. He knew he couldn't try getting out the ropes while he was lying under the eyes of the man in the saddle, so he hoped they might stop for a rest soon where he might have a better chance to free himself.

Sure enough, a little while later, they had to give the horses a small breather, as they were becoming too winded to rely on. Aramis was dragged off the horse and shoved down and against the trunk of a large tree, while the men took the tired horses down to the creek for water. One man was left guarding him in the small clearing.

Aramis frantically worked the ropes, trying to hitch his finger under one loop to maneuvre it to loosen. He didn't have any idea how he knew to do that, it just seemed like how he should do it. After a few minutes, he could feel the ropes loosening, and worked harder to get them off while only one man was guarding him.

He got a hand free finally, and without thinking about it, jumped the man keeping watch. The man was so surprised, Aramis had an easier time with him than he had thought he would. He grabbed the man's pistol and hit him in the head, and the man dropped like a stone.

Out of breath already from having lain prone in a bed for days, he turned to take off into the trees, when he heard one of his captors say, "Drop that weapon now, Musketeer!"

Aramis wasn't about to be taken captive again if he could help it, and whirled, firing as he did so. One man cried out as the bullet hit him in the shoulder, but the others kept coming as they knew he was now holding an unloaded pistol. Aramis desperately swung the pistol as they neared him, striking another of the men, but there were too many of them for him to take out.

They were just starting to lay hands on him when a cold voice called out, "I would not do that if I were you, gentlemen."

Athos and d'Artagnan advanced into the clearing, guns drawn, causing the men to freeze for a moment, before drawing their rapiers. The Musketeers did the same, and there was a furious fight five against two before two of the men turned tail and ran into the trees. The other three surrendered then, as they could tell when someone had a superior ability with a sword. Athos had been almost playing with two of them, their swordplay not too good. D'Artagnan had not been having much trouble with his man, either.

Tying the men and sitting them on the ground,Athos and d'Artagnan could finally go to their brother to see how he was. They saw the coil of rope lying abandoned on the ground,and Athos smiled as he said, "You still have that knack, brother, even if you don't remember your past life. Obviously, your instincts came into play to preserve your life. Was that you also that put a hole in the gentleman over there?", indicating the man lying bleeding on the ground.

Aramis nodded, and a small smile came into play on his face. "Was I good with a pistol then?"

D'Artagnan replied, "You were- are - the best marksman in the regiment, Aramis."

Aramis took this in, and realized he still had the skills, even with no memory. Like Athos had said, instinct gave him the ability to still use them. But instinct wasn't aiding him with remembering his brothers, and it still saddened him immeasurably that he didn't.

Athos and d'Artagnan had just loaded the prisoners on horses when they heard the thundering of a horse's hooves racing towards them. Once again drawing their pistols, they were relieved to lower them again as Porthos flew into the clearing. Jumping down from his horse, he rushed to Aramis to see if he was all right, calming down as he saw he had no new injuries.

Grabbing him with both hands, Porthos smothered him in a bear hug, quickly followed by Athos and d'Artagnan. Aramis had suspiciously wet eyes as they drew away. How had he been blessed with such wonderful friends? Some men were probably lucky to find one close friend to love and be loved by in their lives , and he had been gifted with three, whether he knew his past with them or not.

They walked back to their horses, but as Aramis went to mount one of the prisoner's horses that they had commandeered for him, his knees buckled under him and he began to sink to the ground. Athos, being the closest, caught him before he hit the ground, saying, "I've got you, Aramis. Why don't you ride with me for awhile?You've been through quite a lot today, after having been injured and bedridden for so long. You can rest a while on the way back."

Aramis wanted to disagree, but knew he would be a liability in his exhaustion, so he acquieced quietly. His brothers looked at each other silently, then at Aramis. The Aramis they knew would never have given in that meekly. He would have insisted on riding, protesting that he was 'just fine'. When would they see him back fully as their beloved brother again?

On their way back again, Porthos didn't want to bring up the subject of the missing woman while Aramis was with them. He had been through enough today. They had not yet told him their suspicions as to why he had been attacked, and that it might be because of the young woman they had helped. Aramis had a reputation with the ladies, but not many people knew how much he cared for each woman and child that needed assistance. He would want to help to look for her, and he wasn't in the best shape to be doing that at the moment. He needed to heal.

He was already fast asleep, using Athos shoulder for a pillow, before they had even gone a mile. Athos had a reputation that completely went out the window when it came to taking care of his brothers. He was riding with a little smile on his face as he looked down at his beloved brother, his hand now fisted in Athos' shirt. They were all incredibly grateful to have him back in one piece.

When they finally reached Amelie's cottage, Porthos dismounted quickly. Amelie came to the door, and a beautiful smile lit up her face when she saw that her patient had been returned safely. Between and Athos, they got Aramis safely down and into Porthos' arms to carry into the cottage. He deposited his brother gently on the bed, and covered him with a blanket. Aramis never even woke up, the events of the day having completely taxed his energy.

Amelie took over next. Bringing in a bowl of water and clean cloths, she set about cleaning her patient of the dust and dirt he had acquired through the day. Then, she checked his injuries, glad that nothing seemed to have been aggravated from his rough handling. Leaning down, she softly pressed a small kiss on his forehead, whispering, "God watched over you, Aramis. I am so glad you came back safely."

Leaving the room, she looked back, wishing she had ever had the opportunity to have a son. She would have wished to have one just like her patient.

Porthos called Athos and d'Artagnan, and led them out of the cottage. His brothers knew he had something serious to say, or he wouldn't need this kind of privacy.

Porthos began, "I checked out the patrons of th' tavern. We were right in guessin' the young woman we brought here was the reason for the attack on Aramis. When they found out she was at Amelie's cottage too, they were plannin' to kill her an' Aramis. But she wasn't around when they got here, so they took Aramis an' left a note."

He pulled the note from his pocket, and Athos and d'Artagnan read it, growing even angrier at the day's events.

Athos said, "We could never have given her to them for Aramis. Even if we had her and could do so, they would have killed them both. We need to find her. When we do, we will bring both she and Aramis back to Paris with us. And maybe something there will assist his memory, also."

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Blackbeard was once again meeting with Mathieu, this time having to report the failure of his mission. Mathieu was furious that his orders had not been carried out. He told Blackbeard that, under no circumstances, could he allow the Musketeer and the young woman to live. The master had too much at stake.

The nobleman, besides the danger of losing his family's reputation if his brother's clandestine activities were ever brought to light, also happened to love his brother,warts and all. He would not willingly let his brother hang, regardless of what he had done. He may deplore the sickness his brother seemed to have with his activities, but in no way did he deplore Nicholas. He had been almost like a parent to him since his brother had been a little lad, because their parents had been killed in a carriage accident. It was both brotherly love and an almost fatherly love he felt for him.

"We know where the Musketeer is. You have failed twice now in getting him. The young woman has to be somewhere in the village or the outlying area. Find her, and bring both of them to me. We will make sure their bodies are never found. If there is no evidence of wrongdoing, there is no crime, is there? Now, go!"


	11. Chapter 11

I am so sorry it has taken this long to post the next chapter. Thank you for your patience. I will try not to take so long again.

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The search for the missing young woman took a fortuitous turn the next day. Athos, Porthos and d'Artagnan had spread the word through the village to be on the lookout for a young woman with brown hair, blue eyes, and a very bruised face. They made sure to also say she was not suspected of any wrongdoing, but that they needed to ask her some questions in Paris.

Not two hours later, a young man knocked on Amelie's door to tell them he had seen a woman fitting the description at an abandoned barn east of the village. He said in response to their question that he could lead them to the barn. Saddling up, Porthos took the young man up in front of him and they headed off in the direction he gave them.

When they got to the barn, nestled up against a stand of trees, they cautiously approached, not wanting to scare her. They remembered how frightened she was when they had originally found her, and didn't want to give her any reason to be afraid of them.

Cracking open the door d'Artagnan peered inside, the darkness inside the barn giving him trouble being able to see if anyone was there. But all of a sudden, a shape flew across the barn, heading for the back of the building. They opened the door wide and went in, then saw a portion of the back of the barn that was in severe disrepair, boards broken and hanging. It was to this area that the girl had run, hoping to climb through the hole it made and get away.

But Porthos had stayed outside, and had taken a turn around the barn, so saw her when she emerged out the back. It took no time for him to reach her and gently grab her around the waist. She fought him as hard as she could, but Porthos being Porthos, just kept a firm hold and waited for her to tire. In the meantime, he was speaking to her softly, saying, "We won't hurt you. Remember,we are the ones who found you on the road, and took you to Amelie."

He had to say it several times before it penetrated her fear, and then she calmed down. Porthos let go, but kept a hand on her arm in case she still wanted to bolt away from him. By this time, d'Artagnan and the young man had joined them. She looked from one to the other of them, fear still in her eyes, but also recognition.

Porthos said to her, "Would you come back to Amelie's with us until tomorrow? Would you come to Paris with us? We work for the King, and we would like to catch the man who hurt you and our brother. You may have things you could tell us that would help us with that." He could see her fear rising again at the thought of going so far away, and said, "We and the other Musketeers will protect you. We have the law on our side, so whoever this man is will get caught and put in prison. I promise you. Will you trust us, please?"

She was silent for so long, he thought she would refuse, but finally she nodded, and in a very small voice said, "Yes."

He have her a hug, and they returned to their horses. She rode up in front of Porthos on the way back, and fell asleep halfway back into the village.

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Next morning, Athos and Porthos were sitting with Aramis and talking quietly about the young woman. Aramis had awakened and was still drowsy when he said, "Who is she?"

Athos looked at Porthos and sighed, realizing they were finally going to need to tell Aramis as much as they knew about what they figured was going on.

Athos began, "We believe she may be the reason you were attacked, Aramis," causing Aramis' eyebrows to lift in complete surprise. He hadn't known the men who were his friends had any idea of what was behind the attack.

"When we originally came to the village looking for you, we found her on the road, beaten, torn clothes and in obvious shock. She tried to fight us off, but ended giving in when she realized we wouldn't hurt her. We brought her to Amelie when we were told she was the only one in the village who had any kind of medical experience."

"She was here in this cottage at the same time as I?", Aramis said, somewhat confused that he hadn't been aware.

"Yes," Athos replied. "She had been attacked, and we think the men who are after you thought you had witnessed who had done it. You must have been very near to the scene. We do not know if you saw anything, and you obviously do not yet know. But these men do not know that. They tried twice to abduct you. The second time, from what was overheard at the tavern, they had learned that the woman was here and planned to take her, as well. Somehow, she had slipped away before they got here. Frustrated, they took you and left a note. They were offering to exchange you for her, but it was only a would have killed you both, as you knew too much."

"Was one of the men her attacker?" Aramis asked. At least now, he knew the reason behind the attack. One of the pieces was in place.

"We do not know, Aramis," Athos said in reply. "I get the feeling, and it is only a feeling, that it is someone much more highly placed than the actual men who have come after you. Possibly a nobleman. Whoever it is has men at his disposal to do his dirty work for him."

He did not tell Aramis that he had already spoken with Porthos and d'Artagnan about none of them going anywhere alone, as they had no way of knowing if these men had the resources to replace their depleted numbers, the men the Musketeers had killed the day before.

Aramis said, "I would like to go and see this young woman. Would you assist me, please?"

Porthos replied, "We're here for you in whatever way you need, Aramis," assisting him to get dressed as he said this.

Aramis was still a little shaky, the head wound still giving him king-size headaches, which he found frustrating, and the ribs weren't feeling too well after the forced horseback ride on his stomach. But he wanted to visit with the young woman who had run afoul of the same tormentors as he had.

Moving rather slowly, he and Porthos went down the short hall to her room. She was awake, propped up on pillows. She was rather surprised and uneasy when someone unfamiliar to her came into her room.

Porthos hurriedly assured her that this was his friend, and she could trust him.

Aramis came to her bedside and asked, "Do you mind if I sit down? I'm afraid I ran afoul of the same men who are also looking for you, and am not in the best of shape right now."

She could see that he was moving very slowly, and had his arm wrapped around his torso, and nodded her head.

He began by saying, "My name is Aramis. Do you mind if I ask what we may call you?"

"Fleur," she softly replied. "What happened to you?"

"I really don't know," he replied sadly. "I fear I hit my head very hard in a fall, and don't remember anything before the accident happened. These men, however, have tried twice now to kidnap me because they think I saw something wrong that was done. May I ask what happened to you, please?"

Porthos figured if anyone could get Fleur to share what had happened to her, it would be Aramis. He didn't know how it always happened, but women just had a thing for him. He had a way of putting them at ease. He wouldn't be the least surprised if she opened up to him.

He no sooner had this thought than he heard Fleur begin speaking.

"I was abducted by a young man, who took me into the countryside. I tried so hard to get away from him, but he hit me over and over. We reached a clearing in the trees, where he tried to kiss me. I tried to struggle again, and he threw me to the ground, and then he ... he forced ... his attentions on me." She couldn't look at them when she said this, embarrassed and humiliated by the remembrance of what had happened to her. "Then, he grabbed me again, and pulled me up close to his face, saying, 'Do not ever tell anyone what happened here, do you hear me?', and then left me laying there."

"Do you know who this man was?" Aramis asked gently.

"The man with him, I think he was a servant, called him Master, but one time he called him Saintonge," she replied, seeing Porthos' eyebrows go up and a frown form on his face at the name.

Porthos excused himself, telling Aramis not to attempt to get back to his room before he returned, and left in a hurry.

Finding Athos, Porthos relayed what Fleur had told them. "We came to give him personal letters from the King, and he has been doing this," Porthos growled.

But Athos looked upset, but thoughtful. "It can't be the Comte himself, as he was with us when this would have happened. If I remember right, he does have a younger brother, though, who has never been presented at Court, which is unusual."


	12. Chapter 12

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A short while later, after d'Artagnan had come back inside from feeding the horses, Athos and Porthos filled him in on what they had learned.

Athos then said, "I think we should start back this morning. It will be difficult for Aramis and Fleur to be traveling with their injuries, but the risk is too great to stay here. Saintonge is quite wealthy, and has probably already hired more thugs to come back and try again."

They got everything ready, and then went to Aramis to tell him what they wished to do.

Athos said, "We realize that since you do not remember your past, this might be very difficult for you, but we believe you will be much safer if we take you back to Paris with us, and Fleur, as well. You are not properly healed yet, so the journey might be painful for you, but we ask if you will consider coming with us. Fleur has already agreed, but she is not in the pain you have been in. It is entirely up to you, Aramis."

Aramis was silent for several moments, then spoke, saying, "You are right that it isn't safe here for me right now. You have told me a little of my background, which is in Paris. So, added to the safety factor, seeing where I lived and others I have known might be a very good thing for me to do."

He felt very comfortable with these men who called him friend. They obviously loved and cared for him very much, even though he couldn't remember them, which must be hurting them a lot. If he went to Paris, maybe something would trigger his memories. It was all conjecture that the surroundings would aid him, but he was in limbo at the moment with his memory, and it was a very bad feeling that he wanted desperately to change. Having something he could do to jog that memory, he was beginning to feel more hopeful of his future than he had in days.

Athos, Porthos and d'Artagnan's smiles could have lit up the room when Aramis agreed to come with them. They felt once they got him back to the garrison, the Captain, his other comrades, the atmosphere of Paris surrounding him, surely something would make him remember. And they would be with him at all times, sharing as much as they could to assist him, but trying not to force it, either.

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An hour later, they took off for Paris. To give the horses an easier time, it was decided that Aramis would ride with Athos, Fleur with d'Artagnan. Porthos protested at first, wanting to take Aramis up in front of him in the saddle, but Athos overruled him, stating that he had his reasons.

Aramis could feel his injuries from the fall with every movement of the horse as they rode, but refused to say a word. He didn't want to be a burden to the others, who were doing this in large part for him. When a particularly rough stretch of road caused him to want to groan in pain, he stifled himself.

They had been riding into mid- afternoon, when Athos noticed that Aramis had gone limp in his arms. Aramis' head had tilted back, and was now resting on his brother's shoulder, which caused a slight smile to grace Athos' face. He had been noticing the little bodily reactions that Aramis had been trying so hard to conceal for the past few hours. Aramis didn't recognize it yet, but while he didn't remember people, his instincts were the same as they always had been. He still wanted to hide his pain to keep his brothers from worrying about him. Aramis was that way, but just let one of his brothers get injured, and Aramis was the biggest mother hen there could be. Athos' smile widened with these thoughts, and just knew that Aramis' memory would come back if they were just patient.

Athos called an early halt to their day. Aramis awoke when the horses came to a halt, and asked if they would make Paris that night.

Athos replied, "No, Aramis. We are making camp now, and will go on to Paris in the morning."

Aramis asked, "Why so early? We have hours of daylight left to travel."

To which Athos diplomatically replied, "We are all overly tired, so we are calling a halt early. We can get some much needed rest, and be refreshed to travel in the morning."

They bundled Fleur into a blanket, and she fell asleep almost instantly when her head came to rest on d'Artagnan's saddle.

They set about making a campfire, and laying out the other blankets and saddles for the night. Aramis watched them for a few moments, then spoke up.

"If it's because I fell asleep, I'm fine," Aramis said. He didn't miss the slightly raised eyebrow from Athos at his comment, or the looks that passed between the others.

"What?", he asked, confused.

"Why don't we sit down while we talk, shall we?", Athos suggested, seeing that Aramis was swaying on his feet.

Athos responded to Aramis' last question, "Aramis, you have no idea how many ways you are still the Aramis we know and love...and sometimes, get a little exasperated with," and looked to the others with a fond smile.

"How?", Aramis didn't know what Athos meant, but he could see that the others did.

"Your instincts seem to all be the same. You still do exactly what you would do in similar situations as before you lost your memory. For instance, what I just referred to? To expain it, I need to fill you in on another aspect of your life before.

You were - are - our medic, Aramis. Your skills have saved the lives of many of the members of our regiment over the years, including ourselves," and Aramis could see the others nodding vigorously in agreement. "You have pulled bullets out of us, sewn us back together, cared for us when we were ill. You have been a very loving mother hen to all of us. But - and this is a big but - when you are ill, sick or overly tired, you will totally deny that anything is wrong. Your response is always, "I'm fine," as you instinctively just did a few minutes ago, and put on a very good act to convince us - until we see a bleeding wound that you are too much in pain to hide, or you pass out and fall off your horse. You have no idea how much we love you, but brother, it goes both ways. We love you just as much, and want to care for you as you care for us. Please let us." The others were once again nodding in agreement, their eyes speaking volumes to him of how much he was loved.

By the time Athos had finished speaking, Aramis had tears falling silently down his cheeks. He didn't know how he had been come to have these men as friends, but he knew how much they were already coming to mean to him all over again. He was truly blessed to be one of them.

He didn't say a word when Porthos assisted him to get up, and then laid his saddle down on a blanket, and told him "Sleep, Aramis. Paris can wait until morning. We are all here for you, brother."


	13. Chapter 13

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In the middle of the night, Aramis awakened suddenly. For a moment, he just lay there, wondering what had interrupted his sleep. Then, he heard it - a quiet sobbing, coming from where Fleur was laying.

He got up and went over to her, kneeling down and lightly laying his hand on her shoulder. Her body was shaking, and she was having trouble catching her breath. "It's all right, Fleur. You were having a nightmare. Just lay still and breathe slowly in and out. You are safe with us. We will not let anyone harm you again."

The others had now awakened, as well, but stayed where they were, content to let Aramis soothe her back to sleep, which he did with the same gentleness and compassion they had always experienced from him themselves when they were recovering from an injury or in the grip of a nightmare. Then, he quietly crossed the camp and curled up against the saddle, asleep within moments. His sleep that night was peaceful, allowing him the first night of untroubled rest since his accident.

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Next morning, they were back on the road, heading on the last long leg to Paris. It was a quiet morning, only the birds breaking the peace of the countryside with their merry singing.

An hour into their journey, Aramis noticed the birds had stopped singing, and he felt a prickly sensation, like he was being watched. Not understanding, he turned to Porthos to tell him of the feeling he was having.

He didn't expect the reaction Porthos gave. "Everyone down-now," he yelled.

The Musketeers, being seasoned soldiers, reacted instantly, dismounting, pulling Fleur down, and heading for cover. Not a moment too soon, either, as gunshots erupted seconds later, coming from a distance on the opposite side of the road.

Aramis had been given a pistol, rapier and musket before the trip began. He pulled the pistol out now, unerringly hitting the first target his eyes sighted. Grabbing the musket, he sighted again,and again hit one of the attackers. Hurriedly reloading his pistol, he saw that the others were taking care of business, too. Fleur was on the ground, her arms covering her head, probably scared out of her wits by the noise of the gun battle.

No sooner had he reloaded than he saw a man drawing a bead on d'Artagnan, who was sighting his pistol towards a target off to the left. Aramis took aim, and with a sense of satisfaction, heard the sharp cry as the man dropped like a stone. D'Artagnan, for his part, gave a tip of his non-existant hat towards him before continuing the battle.

Aramis felt strangely excited by the fighting. He didn't understand the feeling, but went with it. As Athos had said, his instincts would kick in when they were needed, as now.

When several of their number were lying on the ground, the leader obviously had had enough, and a sharp whistle was heard. The others drew themselves away from the scene, and the thunder of hooves was heard as they retreated.

The Musketeers gathered together, and Athos drily said, "Brother, your instincts saved us again. You don't know it, but you are rather well-known among the Musketeers for doing just what you did here. You seem to have a sense of danger before it happens, and have saved our lives any number of times as you did today."

Aramis just grinned, so much like they were used to that it brought out a smile in all of them.

"That must have been Saintonge's reinforced numbers we just fought. Come on, brothers, we need to get to Paris before they regroup and come back."

Aramis went over to see how Fleur was. She was shaking from the experience. She was probably a small village girl, and had never seen or heard anything like what she had just been through. He drew her into his arms, and just held her quietly for a moment, before d'Artagnan came to lift her into his saddle again. Turning to Aramis, he silently grabbed him and gave him a quick hug before mounting behind Fleur.

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Two hours later, they wearily entered the garrison gates, Athos looking sideways at Aramis to see if there was any sign of recognition, but sighing when no difference in his demeanor was observed.

D'Artagnan yelled out "Captain", but one of the other men came to tell them Treville had ridden out to meet them yesterday. He would probably be back soon, when he found out they were no longer in the village, but had headed home.

Athos asked d'Artagnan, "Do you think Constance would mind having Fleur staying with her for the time being?"

D'Artagnan told him, "Of course not. Constance has a big heart. She will make her feel right at home, which she needs so much right now. Why don't I take Fleur over there now, and let her get some much needed rest?"

Athos agreed, and he and d'Artagnan went over to an exhausted Fleur with the news. Afterward, d'Artagnan left with Fleur, and the others went to see what could be had for a meal.

Finding fresh-baked bread, some chicken and a little wine, they enjoyed their meal before taking Aramis to his rooms, hoping again that something would click for his memory. They were doomed to disappointment once more, though, as he said it was a very nice room, but didn't recognize anything in it. Athos and Porthos' shoulders sagged at the comment, but they were determined not to let on how disappointed they were. They just needed to be patient. Sooner or later, something was bound to start him back on his road to recognition. It just had to.

They decided they would ask him if he would like to accompany them to their favorite tavern, The Wren, that night. Seeing how eager they were to include him in their company, he agreed.

Later that night, they entered The Wren and headed for the table they always sat at. A table full of Red Guards was on the other side of the room, eying them as they usually did. Athos hoped they could have a peaceful evening despite their being there, but doubted it as the Red Guards hated the Musketeers.

Sure enough, they had been there about an hour, and had just finished a delicious stew, when they heard a voice from the Red Guards' table say, "Well, if it isn't those lazy Musketeers!"

Porthos growled, and started to get to his feet. Athos laid a hand on his shoulder, and held him in his seat. "Don't let them rile you up. They are just spoiling for a fight. Ignore them!"

A few minutes later, "The voice came again,louder. "Guess they're just cowards, but we already knew that, didn't we, boys?"

This time, there was no stopping Porthos, who erupted out of his seat and flew at the man.

Athos sighed and followed suit, needing to back up Porthos before he had 5 Red Guards on his back at once. The Red Guards played dirty, and he didn't want to see a main gauche sticking out of Porthos' back.

Aramis, surprised by the turn of events, watched for a moment, before rising and slamming his fist into the Red Guard who he had just seen hammer Athos in the lower back, slamming him to the floor. The fight got uglier, as the Red Guards liked nothing better than to take advantage of having more men in the tavern than the hated Musketeers.

Both sides were getting bloody and bruised before Aramis saw one of the Red Guards pull a pistol from under his jacket and aim it at Porthos. Grabbing his main guache, he let fly with deadly accuracy, the dagger sinking up to the hilt in the man's shoulder. The action froze, the Red Guards suddenly remembering that they would be in trouble for starting a fight, especially now that there was a glaring injury from what they had begun. They gathered their things together, and left, snarling insults as they went.

Athos and Porthos both went to Aramis and gave him a group hug. "You saved both of our lives, brother," they said. He had shown no hesitation in joining the fight, again letting his instincts lead the way.

"Does this sort of thing happen often," he asked, looking around at the mess that had been created in the tavern. Receiving a shake of their heads, he then asked, "Let me look and see if you're both all right. Sit down."

They both heard Aramis' "medic" voice and grinned. "You are more yourself than you realize," they told him, and then sat down while he checked to see that they just had bruises from the fight.

They decided to call it a night, but Athos and Porthos were again heartened that their Aramis had "appeared" again, even just for a short while.


	14. Chapter 14

A short chapter. Next one will be longer. I hope you're enjoying, and thanks so much for your reviews. They mean a lot to me!

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Aramis decided, when he woke up the next morning, to take a little walk in the city. Besides hoping fervently that Paris, the garrison, the Musketeers or their routines might cause a breakthrough in his amnesia, he was genuinely curious about the great city.

So, dressing and grabbing a piece of buttered bread on the way out the gates of the garrison, he headed down the street, enjoying all the sights that met his eyes on all sides: shopkeepers opening their doors for the day's trade; girls selling flower bouquets at street corners, chimney sweeps climbing down from their thankless jobs of cleaning, covered with soot; fine ladies and gentlemen taking an early morning stroll in their finery, the ladies careful to hold their skirts away from the mud and debris they encountered, and wary of cleaning women dumping pots of liquid out their windows on unsuspecting passersby. Occasionally, the carriage of someone obviously wealthy from the design of the vehicle would race on by, heedless of who might get in their way.

Athos, Porthos or d'Artagnan could have told him he had always been that way, both curious and enjoying the sights and sounds around him, and the activities of the many classes of people he encountered along the way.

Continuing along, he didn't notice the three Red Guards who had happened to spy one of the sources of what they considered their humiliating defeat last night at The Wren. One of them nudged the other, saying, "Hey, what say we get him back for what he and his friends did to us last night?"

His friend, who was sporting a very black eye and bruised cheek from Aramis' fist the night before, was all for it. They hurried ahead of the Musketeer, who was preoccupied with his walk.

Aramis was laughing at the antics of a couple of little boys, who were clumsily tugging a piece of candy back and forth between them, when two pairs of hands grabbed him and pulled him into the darkness of the alleyway where they had been waiting for him.

Two of them held him still, one with a hand over his mouth silencing any outcry he would have tried to make, while the third began punching and kicking him. Aramis felt the fists and boots hitting his face, chest, side and legs mercilessly. He tried to pull himself free, but the other two had too tight of a hold on him. He tried to kick out at the one assailing him, but one of the other two slammed their boot down on his leg, causing a new source of pain. They continue for a few minutes, and then, dropping him to the ground, one of them gave him a vicious kick on the side of his head. Aramis had already been half-conscious before the kick. His head exploded with pain as he finally passed out.

The Red Guards had been carried away with their thirst for revenge. Now that their blood lust had been satisfied, they realized that they were going to be in a lot of trouble if they were connected to the attack. They stood there trying to think of what to do next.

One of them spoke up, saying, "I heard them talking about him last night. He don't remember who he is. Why don't we take him out in the countryside, and leave him off the road. Even if he recovers enough, he won' t know the directions to get back to Paris. Even if somebody finds and helps him, way out here they won't have heard about any minor trouble like this in Paris, so we're not in any trouble ."

The others, concurring with this comment, dragged Aramis further into the dark alleyway until one of them could run for their horses. Then, loading him up in front of one of the men, and throwing a blanket over him, they galloped out of Paris, headed north.

When they had gone completely away from the city and were surrounded by fields of crops, they pushed him off the horse, and he rolled across the grass a few feet and lay motionless, face down. The three Red Guards laughed, and one of them said, "Not only will no one connect us with that one, but his Musketeer friends may never find him before he dies a lonely death out here among the fields." They then galloped off back to Paris, looking forward to having a few drinks that evening right back at The Wren where all the trouble had started to begin with, secure in the belief that they had obtained vengeance for themselves and relief that they had disposed of the evidence.

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Athos, Porthos and d'Artagnan had been eating breakfast, wondering if Aramis had overslept. He hadn't put in an appearance yet, and they figured he needed some extra sleep after a very tiring journey. After assembling for muster, and Athos, as Treville's second in command giving everyone their assigned duties, they went to saddle their horses. Aramis still was nowhere in sight.

Porthos said he was going to go knock on their slumbering brother's door, to see if he wanted to accompany them to the Palace that day. He figured Aramis might want to see all the glory of the Royal Family's residence. Aramis had always been a lover of beauty in all its forms, and Porthos thought that love was probably still somewhere inside his friend.

Knocking on the door, there was no answer. He tried again, this time softly calling, "Aramis". Still no answer. Frowning, he opened the door slightly. The room was bathed in early morning sunlight, the shutters wide open. Moving inside, he noticed the bed had been slept in, but no one was there now.

Coming back outside, he called down to Athos and d'Artagnan, "He's not asleep, or in his room at all."

They figured he might have wanted to explore a little. Mounting up, they decided to go on ahead to the Palace, and find out later what their errant brother had discovered in his jaunt.

On their way, they spotted a group of people pointing and gesturing on the side of the street, looking agitated about something out of the Musketeers field of sight. Figuring maybe there had been trouble of some kind and wanting to help, they halted near the group, and asked if anything was wrong.

One of the men, a dark-haired, middle-aged man with very bushy eyebrows said, "A couple of th' women heard noises coming from there," pointing to the dark alleyway. "They was afraid of going any closer, but it sounded like someone was gettin' beaten up down the alleyway. Three men left later, so they came 'n got us. We took lanterns 'n looked. There was blood all over on th' ground, n' this was laying in the midst of it."

All three of the Musketeers froze when the man held up Aramis' jacket, streaked with blood and dirt.

Athos urgently asked them, "Did you see which way they went, please?"

One of the women present said, "Towards th' north gate."

Then, he asked, "Could any of you tell me what any of these men looked like?"

They all hesitated because of what they could tell about the men.

Porthos said, "Please help us to help our friend. He is one of the King's Musketeers, as we are. If they drop him somewhere, he could die without help."

Before her mother could stop her, a little girl spoke out, saying, "They was Red Guards. I seen 'em. Them guards al'ays treats us bad, 'n thinks they's better'n us."

The Musketeers now understood the hesitation of the people assembled there. The Red Guards had a reputation of acting superior to the poor of Paris, and terrorizing them for fun sometimes. They probably thought they would be next to be attacked.

Athos told them, "Don't worry about the Red Guards retaliating against you. Our Captain will let the King know that the guards are taking advantage of you, which is a dereliction of their duties. Thank you for your information."


	15. Chapter 15

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Aramis gradually began to awaken to his bruised and battered body. His head was hammering, and the myriad places he had been hit and kicked were throbbing in protest at the movement he could feel. Still not fully aware of his surroundings, he slowly opened his eyes, closing them again in a hurry when the light caused an increase in the pounding in his head.

He lay still, not knowing where he was. Thus, he was startled when he felt a cool, soft and definitely female hand begin to gently stroke through his hair, and a woman's voice say, "Hush, it's all right. You have been badly injured. We will take care of you."

He was confused. Where was he? And whose voice was he hearing?

Trying again, he succeeded in keeping his eyes open this time. A young woman was leaning over him, soothing his forehead now with a wet cloth. A young and very beautiful woman, with large blue eyes, curly blond hair upswept in a know, and dressed in pale pink. Who was she? Why was she taking care of him?

` He gradually remembered his run-in with the Red Guards, and losing consciousness in the midst of a brutal beating, but how did he get from there to here? His head throbbed unmercifully, hindering his attempts to think clearly yet, and contesting with his body for which ached the most.

He began to notice the rocking motion under him, and realized they were in a carriage, a very plush carriage, from what he could see of his immediate surroundings. Then, he became aware of another presence in the carriage, and looking over, saw a dark-haired man with the same blue eyes as the woman returning his stare. His clothes, as were the young woman's, were exceedingly expensive-looking. But the way the stranger was looking at him made him very uneasy,angrily looking at him as if he was a beggar picked up off the streets who was sullying his expensive carriage.

When the pounding in his head eased off a trifle, Aramis tried speaking. He asked the man, "May I have the pleasure of knowing who has been kind enough to give me some assistance, please?"

The man's eyes, if possible, grew even colder when Aramis spoke to him. Before he could begin to reply, however, the young woman spoke up. "My name is Marie-Louise, and this is my cousin, Nicholas. Nicholas just came to Paris at his brother's request to escort me back to his family's estate. I was enjoying the scenery out of the window, and was so shocked to see you lying in the field. Of course, I insisted that we stop and help you."

Aramis looked into the young woman's beautiful eyes, and saw sincerity and a very real concern for him written in them. The man was still looking at him like he was unworthy to be in his presence. Aramis, becoming more and more aware of things on and around him as his senses sharpened, saw that he was dirty and bloody, with no doublet and a ripped shirt. He imagined that his face had to be pretty banged up too, if the pain radiating from it was any indication. The man was probably just concerned for the safety and well-being of his lovely cousin, and didn't know how Aramis had become injured. For all the man knew, Aramis could have been committing a heinous crime and was attacked in an attempt to apprehend him.

Aramis was also wondering, now that he was awake, where exactly the estates the man mentioned were located. How would he ever get back to Paris, and to Athos, Porthos and d'Artagnan? He seemed to be traveling away from any chance to discover who he was, and that made him apprehensive and isolated from those who he now knew loved him. With all his heart, he wanted to learn about his background, his life with them, their adventures, and rejoin them, but at the moment, he was helpless, dependent upon the assistance of this 'angel' who was taking care of him.

Aramis said, "I offer my sincere thanks for coming to my rescue, Mademoiselle," and looking at the man, added, "Monsieur."

The man, Nicholas, spoke for the first time. "My cousin has always had a soft spot for things that are helpless, broken. Growing up, she was always bringing in birds with broken wings, bandaging the dog's paw when it stepped on a thorn, things of that ilk. You are just her latest 'project', making it sound like he was just an object of nature, of no real concern to someone like him. "Do not get ideas above your station. She insists on taking care of you for the moment. I am indulging her ... whim. With your looks, you have probably had women flock to you all your life if you give them the slightest attention. But you are not in a bar or a brothel here. I will not tolerate any flattering words towards her, and If you lay a finger on my cousin, you will live to regret it."

The man spoke in such a cold, detached manner. Aramis somehow instinctively knew he had dealt with noblemen of this sort before. They believed themselves above what they referred to as the 'common folk', and would not hesitate to take a hand, or in some cases, a riding crop, to anyone who looked at the women in their families, or who spoke out of turn.

He was beginning to feel the darkness approaching him again, as the pain in his body ratcheted up. He vaguely heard Marie-Louise say to her cousin, "This is just another example of why you have the horrid reputation that I have heard tales of, Nicholas. He is one of God's creations, and I 'will' give him the assistance he needs to get well. I will not stand for your interference."

The last words he heard as he once more passed out, were from Nicholas, as he snarled, "Do not pass judgement on me, cousin. And as I said to your little 'project', do not lay a finger on him other than treating his injuries. He is beneath you, and I will not tolerate it."

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When Aramis awoke the next time, the carriage was at a standstill. Trying to lift himself a little to see where they were, he groaned aloud in pain as his body reacted to his movements.

A soft hand exerted gentle pressure on his shoulders to convince him to lie down again. It didn't take much convincing for him to resume his former position, the pain receding a little as he lay back down.

Marie-Louise spoke gently to him, saying, "Please, Monsieur, stay still for me. You have yet to be seen by a doctor, and I do not know all that is hurting in your body. We will not be able to summon a doctor until we arrive at our destination, which is still over an hour away. For now, please just rest?", and her hand once again brought a wet cloth to stroke across his forehead in rhythmic motions that were soothing to the drumbeats within. He surrendered again to the overwhelming pull of exhaustion, the black void where there was no pain.

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Athos, Porthos and d'Artagnan knew they would have no luck visiting the Red Guards' garrison trying to find the men responsible for the attack. They were impatient to find their brother, but decided the only possible way to hopefully encounter the men was at the same tavern they had been at previously. Fuming that evening was still two hours away, they held on to their worry as best they could until then, trying not to panic at the thought of their injured brother dumped somewhere to die alone in the countryside. But they had no way to find out where until they could lay hands on the Red Guards responsible.

As dusk approached, they were already headed for The Wren, determined and angry. They were fully armed, knowing it wasn't going to be easy to get the information from the men. But to find their beloved brother, they would endure whatever difficulties might arise to get him back.


	16. Chapter 16

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When Aramis once again woke up, he was surprised to find he was laying on a bed, and not just any bed. This one was very large, with soft, silken sheets, and several pillows under his head. Curtains hung from the top of the bed frame, and were drawn, enclosing him in a luxuriant cocoon of warmth. He must be at Marie-Louise's family's home.

His head was still very sore, but not throbbing as it had the other times he had awakened, which he was grateful for. His body was still very sore and stiff, having lain prone for so long now.

He was just beginning to think he should try getting up and seeing more of where he had been brought to, when the curtains were pulled back, and Marie-Louise smiled at him. Accompanying her was a servant, carrying a large tray.

"Good morning, monsieur," she greeted him. "It's good to see you awake and aware once more. Would you like something to eat?"

He realized then how ravenously hungry he was. Nodding his head, Marie-Louise had the servant lay the tray down on the table beside the bed, while she took a seat on a chair beside him. He reached for the bowl of porridge he could see on the tray, but she picked it up first, saying, "Do you mind if I do it for you, Monsieur?"

He was so grateful for all she had done for him, how could he say no? Nodding his head, she proceeded to give him the porridge, which he found to be delicious. It had a taste of apples and honey that was really good. There was also some fresh-baked bread liberally covered with butter and jam. She was very pleased that he finished it all, saying, "If you eat like that and get the rest you need, you will be well very soon!"

She laid the tray aside, and looking in his eyes, asked, "Do you mind if I ask who you are, Monsieur? I neglected to do so before as I was so concerned for your well-being."

Aramis responded, "My name is Aramis. Apparently, I am a King's Musketeer from Paris."

Marie-Louis gently prompted, "Apparently?"

"Mademoiselle, this is not my first recent accident. A couple of weeks ago, I had, from all accounts, been pushed off a steep embankment near a small village. I landed on some rocks at the side of a river, and had a very serious head injury, to the extent that I do not remember anything about my past. Then, some men came, saying they were friends and sharing stories of our past life together. They helped rescue me twice when the same men who had attacked me tried to abduct me. I went back to Paris with them to see if I could remember my past in more familiar surroundings. Unfortunately, my first foray out on the streets of Paris alone resulted in my being attacked by Red Guards."

She asked, "Why would they attack you?"

Aramis told her, "My friends told me that Musketeers and Red Guards have a long, antagonistic history between them, and we had a run-in with them the night before at a tavern. They were intent upon revenge. They must have brought me out to the countryside and left me, to get rid of the evidence of their attack. I was told the King has said he doesn't want the two groups at each other's throats, upon pain of dire consequences."

Marie-Louise's face was so sad, when she said,"It was evil what they did to you, both groups. May they be punished for causing you to suffer so much.

As she left with the tray, she turned back to tell him, "The doctor will be here this morning. We will hope he finds nothing too serious to hinder your return to health quickly." With a smile, she left the room.

As grateful as Aramis at how caring and thoughtful Marie-Louise was, he still couldn't help feeling too far away from the men he was starting to care for, and the life he wanted to know more about. He really didn't have any idea where this estate was, or how far from Paris it was. He knew he needed to get a little strength back before he attempted it, but he was determined to find his way back ... home, he asked himself?

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The doctor arrived a short while later, with Marie-Louise at his side. He examined Aramis, putting some salve on the bruises on his face and torso. When he had examined the large lump on his head, he said, "You have probably been having trouble keeping awake because of this injury. It would have caused a concussion, a great deal of pain and made you pass out. It looks to be healing nicely, though. I think it would be all right if you tried getting up, maybe moving around ... slowly and for short periods. Eat normally, no restrictions. You should make a full recovery, just take it easy doing it, all right?"

Aramis nodded, and thanked the man. He had been very attentive while the doctor was examining him, watching all that he did with the odd feeling that it was familiar. But I'm a King's Musketeer, he mused. What does a doctor's methods have to do with me?

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Athos, Porthos and d'Artagnan, along with a couple of other Musketeers who had insisted on 'helping out', arrived at The Wren just as the barkeeper announced that the evening stew was now available ... "chicken, and very tender and well-seasoned," the man added.

The Musketeers were not interested in dinner, as their minds were on one thing only. But Athos pointed out, "It would be better to blend in than sit glaring at the door," so they ordered while taking a table near the back to better be able to observe the whole tavern whille they themselves were not as noticeable.

Sure enough, no sooner had their meals arrived than so did the Red Guards. Athos told the others, "Wait until they are seated. We will casually arraign ourselves at various points in the tavern so they have no escape route."

A few minutes later, when everyone was in position, Athos approached the Red Guards' table, saying, "Gentlemen, and I use the term very loosely, you are not going enjoy your meal tonight."

The Red Guards had no sooner realized who was speaking to them, than Athos, in one swift motion, oveturned the table and drew his rapier, followed by the sounds of several more from around the tavern.


	17. Chapter 17

The Red Guards looked around the tavern, noticing that any path to escape was cut off. The one with the long, black, slightly unkempt hair and down-turned mustache leaned back in his chair, asking, "And just why would you think that, Musketeer dog?", relishing the flash of anger in Athos' eyes, before his face swiftly reverted to his former disdainful expression.

"I will not be discussing anything with you," Athos replied. "We will be asking you direct questions, and if your answers are not forthcoming or truthful, you may be languishing in the Chatelet-if you are still alive," he added matter-of-factly. He already knew, from past experience with the Red Guards, that these men would not tell him anything. He was just waiting for a sudden attempt at escape, as were the others.

What he didn't, couldn't see, was the boot that suddently snaked out from under the table and sliced across the bottom of his legs, causing him to momentarily lose his balance, which was all the Red Guards needed. Pandemonium erupted in the tavern, Porthos, d'Artagnan and the other Musketeers coming swiftly to their leader's defence with rapiers flying, and the Red Guards out of their chairs with their own weapons drawn. The other patrons of the tavern, startled out of their quiet evening, headed for the doors to escape, leaving the Musketeers and Red Guards circling each other for all the world like wolves after prey.

The Red Guard leader had been calm and confident a moment ago, until he remembered the reputation Athos had with a rapier. He wanted nothing more than to end the encounter as swiftly as possible and get out of the tavern. Unfortunately, he could see that his opponent had other ideas. Athos' rapier suddenly reached out in a move so swift the other man had no idea it had been coming. It slashed across his shoulder, tearing the fabric of his doublet and shirt, leaving a thin line of blood.

The Red Guards, seeing this, began fighting furiously, knowing they might not leave the tavern alive otherwise. The Musketeers attacked, clearly being the superior men with swords, and began driving the Red Guards to the back end of the tavern. Porthos' man made an attempt to duck under the swords and run. Porthos simply picked him up and threw him against the wall, the man sliding his way down to the floor limp. D'Artagnan saw one of the men trying to make his way behind the barkeeper's counter, probably intending to hide until the fracas died away. Leaning over the counter, he smiled as the man looked up, saying, "I wouldn't, if I were you," indicating with a wave of his sword to move out and into a chair he pulled up.

Meanwhile, Athos and the Red Guard leader, were parrying, and Athos was basically playing with the man. His swordsmanship was so superior to his opponent that he reached in time and again, nicking him half a dozen times in various places, letting him know he could do whatever he pleased with him. But finally, he backed the man into a corner of the back wall where the others had already been herded or thrown.

"Now, we will have the the questions and answers that was so rudely interrupted before," Athos said. "You made a very big mistake attacking our friend last night. He is now missing. You wouldn't have had anything to do with that, would you?", punctuating the last statement with light taps of his rapier against the Red Guard he had pinned to the wall.

Silence met his question. Moving in even closer to the man, Athos growled, "We do not take lightly or nicely an attempt to kill our friend and brother. If I do not have an answer from you in the next minute, my sword will be entering you and exiting into the wall behind you. Do you understand?"

The man hesitated. He was belligerent and mean, but he wasn't a fool. "We just roughed him up a little," he said. "He injured one of my men, and we wanted satisfaction."

"So three of you decided to waylay him? That was your idea of satisfaction, to beat him and dispose of him somewhere?"

The man almost whined, "We didn't kill him. Just used our fists a little."

Athos, almost at the boiling point now, although it didn't show in his demeanor, leaned in close to the man's ear, and said, "If you do not tell me now where you took him, your ear will be gone faster than you can imagine," sliding the rapier up and behind the man's ear, where it rested against the skin. "Followed by the rest of you."

The deliberate and cold-voiced threat seemed to shatter the man's stubbornness. He blurted out, "We left him in the countryside by the side of the road. We didn't kill him. I swear we didn't."

Athos said "Not good enough. You are going to take us to the exact spot you left him-and you are going to do it at first light. Meantime, all of you will be our guests in a secluded building out of earshot of witnesses," knowing full well what the Red Guards would intimate from that statement. No witnesses, anything could happen if they reneged on taking them to where their brother had been thrown.

The Musketeers quietly herded the Red Guards out the back door, leaving behind overturned tables, chairs, plates of stew and tankards spilled of their contents all over the tavern. Athos took the owner aside as they left, promising recompense for the mess they were leaving behind.

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Aramis has enjoyed spending time in a chair next to the window after the doctor left. Marie-Louise had left the book of poetry for him, and he was enjoying it, as well as the scenery looking out the window over the estate's landscape. He came to a piece of poetry, though, that was causing a sensation of familiarity through him. It was written by a 16th century poet, Pierre de Ronsard, called Love Has No More. He read it several more times, hoping it would jog his memory more clearly, but nothing. He had no idea why he felt familiar with it. Did he enjoy poetry, and especially this particular poet? He wished for his memory back so badly, but it was beginning to look like his wish would never come true. His instincts were still intact, but a man does not have relationships with instincts, and, in his heart, he was beginning to feel a longing to be the friend to Athos, Porthos and d'Artagnan that he could see they were to him.

The door to his room opened abruptly a few minutes later, Nicholas striding in, slapping his riding crop against his leg.

"So, you are gaining your strength back. Good! I will have my men come to escort you back to Paris as soon as possible. We have guests coming in a couple of days, and this room is reserved for visiting relatives and friends of the family- not for the likes of you," looking down his nose at Aramis.

Aramis said, "I am very grateful for your cousin's care of me, Monsieur. I could very well have died without assistance in the middle of nowhere. If..."

He got no further, as Nicholas interrupted him, saying, "I did not come here to have a discussion with you. My men will come for you in one hour. As you came with nothing, there will be nothing for you to get ready. I will be glad to see the last of you," and turning on his heel, he strode out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

Aramis just stared at the door, not understanding such behavior when he had done nothing to the man. He and his cousin were so different, he found it amazing that they were even related to each other. He wondered what her other cousin was like, the man who owned this estate he was presently on. He would probably never meet him if he was leaving so soon.

Marie-Louise came in just then, and smiled when she saw that he was up and seated at the window with her book of poetry. She said "I am so glad you are feeling better. Would you like an early luncheon?"

Aramis told her, "I do not think I will have time, Mademoiselle. Your cousin was just here, and said that since I am getting better, his men will escort me back to Paris in an hour."

Marie-Louise was shocked at her cousin's trying to kick Aramis out so quickly, before Aramis was fully recovered.

But Aramis told her, "It is probably for the best. He will give me nothing but trouble while I am here. I am well enough. The headaches are gone, and my strength is slowly coming back. It should be all right to head back to Paris. I would like to tell you how much your rescue and care for my injuries has meant to me. I might well have had a very hard time of it injured in the country without any assistance. Thank you sounds inadequate for all you've done for me."

Marie-Louise answered "I will talk to Nicholas. This is outrageous for him to move you so soon."

Aramis responded, "Please don't. It is very uncomfortable being somewhere I am not wanted. It would only get worse if you intervene for me. I promise you I will be all right."

She could see that his mind was made up, so she thought she would have a meal prepared for him to take with him when he left. She excused herself and went to talk to the cook to prepare it quickly, so it would be ready when he left.

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Nicholas, true to his word, came back one hour after he had left, only this time he was not alone. One man accompanied him into the room, while three more waited in the hallway.

He strode in, saying, "These men are here to..."

He got no further, as the man at his side said, "You!" Aramis, for his part, froze when he beheld the tall, broad-shouldered, black-bearded man, recognizing him instantly as the man who had twice tried to kidnap him


	18. Chapter 18

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Aramis had enjoyed spending time in a chair next to the window after the doctor left. Marie-Louise had left the book of poetry for him, and he was enjoying it, as well as the scenery looking out the window over the estate's landscape. He came to a piece of poetry, though, that was causing a sensation of familiarity through him. It was written by a 16th century poet, Pierre de Ronsard, called Love Has No More. He read it several more times, hoping it would jog his memory more clearly, but nothing. He had no idea why he felt familiar with it. Did he enjoy poetry, and especially this particular poet? He wished for his memory back so badly, but it was beginning to look like his wish would never come true. His instincts were still intact, but a man does not have relationships with instincts, and he wanted to be the friend to Athos, Porthos and d'Artagnan that he could see they were to him.

The door to his room opened abruptly a few minutes later, and Nicholas came striding in, slapping his riding crop against his leg. Seeing Aramis out of bed, a smile, of sorts, came to his face.

"So, you are gaining your strength back. Good! I will have my men come to escort you back to Paris as soon as possible. We have guests coming in a couple of days, and this room is reserved for visiting relatives and friends of the family- not for the likes of you," looking down his nose at Aramis.

Aramis said, "I am very grateful for your cousin's care of me, Monsieur. I could very well have died without assistance in the middle of nowhere. If..."

He got no further, as Nicholas interrupted him, saying, "I did not come here to have a discussion with you. My men will come for you in one hour. As you came with nothing, there will be nothing for you to get ready. I will be glad to see the last of you," and turning on his heel, he strode out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

Aramis just stared at the door, not understanding such behavior when he had done nothing to the man. He and his cousin were so different, he found it amazing that they were even related to each other. He wondered what her other cousin was like, the man who owned this estate he was presently on. He would probably never meet him if he was leaving so soon.

Marie-Louise came in just then, and smiled when she saw that he was up and seated at the window with her book of poetry. She said "I am so glad you are feeling better. Would you like an early luncheon?"

Aramis told her, "I do not think I will have time, Mademoiselle. Your cousin was just here, and said that since I am getting better, his men will escort me back to Paris in an hour."

Marie-Louise was shocked at her cousin's trying to kick Aramis out so quickly, before

Aramis was fully recovered.

But Aramis told her, "It is probably for the best. He will give me nothing but trouble while I am here. I am well enough. The headaches are gone, and my strength is slowly coming back. It should be all right to head back to Paris. I would like to tell you how much your rescue and care for my injuries has meant to me. I might well have had a very hard time of it injured in the country without any assistance. Thank you sounds inadequate for all you've done for me."

Marie-Louise answered "I will talk to Nicholas. This is outrageous for him to move you so soon."

Aramis responded, "Please don't. It is very uncomfortable being somewhere I am not wanted. It would only get worse if you intervene for me. I promise you I will be all right."

She could see that his mind was made up, so she thought she would have a meal prepared for him to take with him when he left. She excused herself and went to talk to the cook to prepare it quickly, so it would be ready when he left.

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Nicholas, true to his word, came back one hour after he had left, only this time he was not alone. One man accompanied him into the room, while three more waited in the hallway.

He strode in, saying, "These men are here to..."

He got no further, as the man at his side said, "You!" Aramis, for his part, froze when he beheld the tall, broad-shouldered, black-bearded man, recognizing him instantly as the man who had twice tried to kidnap him. Acting on instinct, he was out of the chair holding the book, and used it to slam against the head of the black-bearded man.

Unfortunately, the other three men, who had entered the room when they heard Blackbeard's exclamation, moved swiftly, grabbing Aramis, and pulling his arms behind him as he fought wildly to escape. Blackbeard, furious with being hit in the head, slammed his fist into Aramis' stomach, causing him to gasp in pain.

Nicholas held up a hand, causing the men to halt in what they were doing, Aramis hanging between two of them.

"I take it you know this man?", he asked Blackbeard.

"This is the man who twice escaped us when we attempted to capture and bring him here. He is a witness to one of your romantic dalliances", replied Blackbeard. It was unusual for a commoner to speak in this manner to someone of noble birth, and Aramis, even in the dire situation he found himself in, couldn't help but wonder if Blackbeard had something to hold over Nicholas' head to be so brazen.

He also had heard enough to know that this was the Comte de Saintonge's younger brother, and that he was in the Comte's chateau. He remembered what Athos, Porthos and d'Artagnan had told him, and knew Nicholas needed to rid himself of witnesses. But he was helpless to get away now, and as far as he knew, the only ones able to rescue him hadn't a clue where he was.

Nicholas leaned into Aramis' face, sneering at the now pinioned Musketeer. "Your days are numbered, Musketeer. But before you leave this earth, you are going to tell me where that wench is that you and your friends made off with. She is just as much a liability to testify to my activities as you are. And doubt for a minute that we are not capable of getting the information out of you."

Turning to Blackbeard, he told him, "You know where to take him, and make sure no one sees or hears you doing it. I will keep my lovely cousin occupied, so that she doesn't make one of her unseemly, frequent visits to cosset this low-life commoner, " and turning on his heel, confident that he had the complete upper hand now, he left the room.

Blackbeard left for a moment. When he came back, and before Aramis knew what he was about, he had stuffed a woman's handkerchief into the Musketeer's mouth, effectively cutting off any sound he could make. The sock made him want to choke as it kept trying to go down his throat as he breathed.

His wrists were bound tightly with the cord from the draperies, and with a brutal hold on both arms, he was firmly hustled out the door of the bedroom, and down some back stairs. He had no idea where they were going. It became colder and darker as they descended the seemingly endless steps. They were moving him so quickly, that if his arms had not been grasped so tightly, he might have lost his balance on the slippery stairs.

Finally reaching the end of the steps, Aramis' steps faltered as he realized what they had brought him to. It was an ancient dungeon, far underground. His heart raced as he realized he might neve be found down here. And they could do what they pleased with him, and no one would hear anything, either.

They nearly dragged him down the hallway, which looked liked it had originally been hewn out of rock, to a cell door with a small, barred window high above his head. Unlocking it, they pulled him inside to the far wall, where they grabbed hold of a chain with an iron collar. Holding him still, they fastened it around his neck, then pulled the sock from his mouth, saying, "You don't need to be silenced down here. No one can here you, and no one but us has been down here in many years."

Laughing, they shoved him down against the wall and left, the clang of the thick door slamming shut, followed by the sound of it being locked, driving home to him the helplessness of his situation.


	19. Chapter 19

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Athos led the way out of Paris at first light the morning after their fight with the Red Guards, who now were riding behind Athos and ahead of Porthos and d'Artagnan, their having first secured their hands with shackles behind their backs. Their prisoners were subdued, sullenly silent in defeat. They pointed out which way to go when prompted, but said not another word, either to the Musketeers or to each other.

When they reached the place that the Red Guards had taken Aramis, Athos, Porthos and d'Artagnan began anxiously looking everywhere in the area for Aramis. The Red Guards, their hands tied to the pommels of their saddles and the horses hobbled to keep them from escaping, looked on, a bit worried when the Musketeers had no luck finding their comrade.

Athos came back to them, saying, "If you are leading us on a wild goose chase by bringing us to the wrong site, I warn you, it will have dire consequences for you."

They all vehemently denied the charge, saying this was exactly the place they had brought Aramis.

D'Artagnan came up to Athos just then, saying, "Come see what I just found on the road, Athos," leading him a few yards down past where they had stopped.

There, the road had multiple wheel tracks, signs of a large carriage having passed that way. Further investigating, they found bootprints leading from the carriage, then back again, the bootprints on the way back made deeper impressions, as if carrying something-or someone.

"It looks like someone found him before we could." Knowing the disdain so many members of the aristocracy had for those beneath them, Athos wondered who took the time to take him up into their carriage.

Deciding the Red Guards would hinder their movements, Athos went back to them, cutting them loose and saying, "Leading us this far has saved your lives. If we find that our brother is seriously injured or didn't make it, make sure we will find you and finish what we started. Now go, and think twice before tangling with Musketeers again!"

Turning on his heel and mounting again, Athos led the way in following the carriage's tracks.

Miles later, the road merged with another coming from the east, along with several other sets of carriage wheels. Disheartened, they stopped to rest for a moment, and to figure out what they should do next.

"Let's check out the villages in the area, and ask if anyone has seen a carriage with an injured man for a passenger," Athos decided.

After two days of fruitless searching and questioning people in every village they came to, and there were many large and small villages in the area, they were exhausted and frustrated. But they wouldn't think of giving up no matter how long it took.

It was late afternoon when they came upon the largest village they had seen so far. They found an obviously well-used inn, as evidenced by a number of carriage and horse tracks. This much traffic at an inn in this village indicated it must be known for excellent service and good food to weary travellers.

They realized that any one of these carriages could be the one they were looking for, and had no idea how to distinguish between them.

Porthos, who had been unusually silent during their travel, spoke up, saying, "I can go down the street a piece to the tavern I can see, and find out if anyone has seen or heard anything."

They decided all three of them would go, as they needed to get something to eat, as well, having left without provisions.

Sitting down, they ordered some stew and looked around at the patrons, wondering if anyone might have any information of use to them. They didn't even have to move, as someone at the next table was grousing in a clearly audible tone, "Wh's this village al'ays chosen for that man to show up in? 'E looks down 'is nose at all o' us, 'n expects us to all bow down 'im whenever 'e comes through on 'is forays into Paris!"

Another man spoke up in reply, "'E will get 'is just desserts someday, Jean."

Jean replied, "Th' nobles never need to lift a hand to do anything. Only time they lift a hand to anything, it's to grind us poor people further under their boot heels.

"But th' young woman with 'im, with all 'er fancy silk dress, 'n laces 'n such, was obviously not th' same mind as 'im. Did you see her when th' carriage stopped at th' inn to take in provisions? Cradling that poor soul's head in 'er lap? 'Im 'im unconscious, all bruised 'n bloody!"

At these words, the Musketeers, as one, flew out of their chairs, heading over to the table. The men at the table, startled at the swift movement towards them, backed their chairs up, thinking they had a fight on their hands. Athos held up a placating hands, speaking clearly but softly, "We mean you no harm, gentlemen."

They eased up a bit with upon hearing these words, but wondered what these men, obviously soldiers, would want with poor men such as themselves.

Athos spoke up again, "We are King's Musketeers, and have been searching for our brother, who was set upon by men of ill will. We couldn't help but hear what you said just now, and believe the man you talked about might be our brother. Could you describe him for us?"

The first man, a middle-aged man of dark hair and fiery eyes, said, "We only saw 'im fer a minute, but 'e looked to be a young man with a 'ead of curly brown hair. 'Is eyes were closed, 'n 'e never moved. We figured 'e must be unconscious."

Athos, Porthos and d'Artagnan looked at each other, each thinking, "Aramis!"

Porthos asked them, "Do any of you know whose carriage he was in?"

Jean spoke up again. "We all know, to our sorrow. That man comes here every time 'e goes to or from th' fancy life in Paris. 'e's th' Comte de Saintonge's younger, good-for-nothing wastrel of a brother."

At these words, fear and tension rose in all three Musketeers' hearts. They could only hope the man had no knowledge of who he taken into his carriage.

"Does anyone know who the young woman was, please?"

Another, elderly white-haired man responded right away. "I heard him complaining 'bout his cousin having too soft a heart-always wanting to mend bird's broken wings, a kitten's paw, but that this was th' outside of enough that she insisted on bringing this low-life commoner into their carriage. Said she insisted on bringing 'im back to 'is brother's house, 'n having a doctor look at 'im. 'E were mad as a hatter over th' whole affair, but said 'e knew 'is brother would have 'is 'ead if he didn't 'elp his pretty, feather-brained cousin."

Athos thanked the men for their information, and the three Musketeers left the tavern, moving swiftly to their horses as they now knew which direction they were going. They could only hope that their beloved brother would be all right when they found him.

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Aramis lay where he had been thrown, trying hard not to give in to the despair he could feel welling up inside of him. He was in the hands of the very men who had nearly succeeded in killing him, beaten and raped Fleur, then twice attempted to make off with him.

He looked dazedly around at his surroundings. This dungeon had probably existed for centuries. Stone walls rose on all four sides of him, the only window the small barred one in the solid oak door, high above his head. There were some scratches on the wall in back of him, slash marks, maybe some other prisoner attempting to keep track of how long he had been there. There was nothing in the cell, no cot, nothing, just some iron rings and hooks set in the walls. He didn't even want to know what they could be for. It was semi-dark, even though it was right after noon. There would be no light at all at night. He knew better than to think his captors would provide a candle or lantern.

He tried for some time to maneuvre his hands to get the ropes loose, but even though he tried so hard he could feel blood dripping down his wrists, it was to no avail. They had been tied tightly and refused to budge. Even if he had been able to free his hands, the iron collar around his neck, attached by a chain to the wall, would have been more than sufficient to hold him in place.

His mind refused to dwell on what they planned to do to him. They had proven themselves to be a very determined group of men, and he was sure they would do whatever they had to do to find out where Fleur was. He would never give them the satisfaction of telling them where she was. She had been through so much. He had no idea what it must have been like for her to fall prey to the depravity of Nicholas de Saintonge. She had been beaten, raped and then abandoned in the countryside, probably in the hope that she wouldn't survive the experience. At least, she was now safe and in the loving care of Constance. He would not allow her to be hurt again, no matter what.

As all these thoughts went through his mind, he lost track of time. He would know when it was night by the complete absence of light, but as for the hours of the day, he had no idea. He wondered, and doubted, whether he would be given any food or anything to drink. It would be another method of torment for him, in addition to whatever else they had in mind.

After who knew how many hours, he tensed as he heard the door being unlocked. Four men came into the cell, Blackbeard and three well-built men with villainous expressions on their faces.

Stopping when they reached him, Blackbeard said, in a deceptively soft voice, "Well, Musketeer, have you decided to be cooperative, and give us the information we want?"

Aramis, in defiance, looked straight up at him, and said nothing.

Blackbeard, not looking in the least surprised, said, Well, boys, let's change his mind."

As he was yanked to his feet, Aramis tried to steady himself and internally prepare himself for whatever they intended to do. He didn't have to wait long before he found out what they had in mind.


	20. Chapter 20

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He could still feel their fists and boots on his body, the pain throbbing through his midriff and face. It was such an awful feeling to be so helpless and at the mercy of whatever they wanted to do to him. He had not uttered a sound, though. They would never get what they wanted from him, no matter how badly it hurt to keep silent.

And then, they came back later and continued the same brutal assault, leaving with the comment , "You have no idea who you're up against, Musketeer." He barely registered what they said, consciousness fleeing before they had even exited the cell.

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Marie-Louise had returned to Aramis' room with a package of food for his journey, but no one was there. Nicholas, who had insisted on accompanying her, told her he was sorry that his men had arrived before her, and that they had already left with the Musketeer. She had wanted to check his injuries one more time before he left, and to give him the food she had asked the cook to prepare for huim. She was sad beyond words that she had not had a real chance to say good-bye. Nicholas, acting very solicitous, told her he might write to her when he had returned to his garrison in Paris, and she had to be content with that.

Deciding to take a horseback ride, hoping it would lift her spirits as being outdoors always seemed to do, she headed for the stables to ask one of the men to saddle her grey mare.

While she was waiting for her horse to be prepared for her ride, she spoke to the stablehand. "Did our guest seem well enough when he left with my cousin's men earlier?"

The man seemed confused by her question, saying, "No one 'as left from 'ere t'day, Mademoiselle. I 'aven't seen no one near th' stables, 'sides yerself."

Marie-Louise was shocked, and felt a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach as she began to realize her cousin had lied to her about his intentions. She wasn't stupid or naive, and now wondered if Nicholas had told his men to take Aramis away in secret as he didn't want her tending to him. She knew he didn't think it was right for the Musketeer to be occupying a room in the family wing of the house, and had acted on those thoughts.

She was beyond upset. She believed she might have a way to rectify the situation, but it depended upon timing. Nicholas still had no idea that his brother was due back that day, and Marie-Louise fully intended to have a talk with the Comte about his brother as soon as he set foot in the door. She just hoped that her older cousin would 'persuade' his brother to tell them what he had done with Aramis.

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Athos, Porthos and d'Artagnan rode as hard as they dared to press their horses, worry tearing them up inside. It was several hours' ride to Saintonge's estate, and they had to hope Nicholas de Saintonge had no idea who Aramis was. But if his hired men were anywhere around, how long could that last? And was the Comte in residence, or still visiting his various estates, as he had told them when he intended to do when they had come for their errand?

They finally had stopped for the night, their horses pushed to the limit. They made camp, and laid down to rest for the night, but none of them really got any sleep. Their thoughts were on being on the road as soon as it was light in the morning.

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Aramis awoke to freezing water thrown over him. His tormentors were there again. Blackbeard came in grinning, saying, "You will be going from cold to hot today-very hot, Musketeer," as two of the men carried a metal container into the cell and set it down in the opposite corner of the cell. They then threw various pieces of wood into it, and set it alight. Aramis, watching this, was very nervous about what it could mean for him. He was sure they hadn't brought the fire in to be solicitous about the near-freezing condition of his cell.

Then, they brought in a fireplace poker, and laid it amid the flames. Aramis froze, silently pleading, "No! Please not this! No!", fear almost overwhelming him at what they probably intended to do to him.

Blackbeard leaned down over him, snarling, "You Musketeers think you're so brave. You have never dealt with the likes of us before, though. From the expression on your face, you seem to have an idea of what will come next. Feel like telling us what we want to know now?"

Although his whole being was trembling with dread over what he would be subjected to, he kept his silence. He would not turn these wolves loose on Fleur. He just remained still, and kept eye contact with Blackbeard, determined not to give him the satisfaction of seeing any fear from him.

A heavy, wooden chair was dragged into the cell, and two of the men grabbed him by the arms and lifted him into it restraining him by the elbows to the sides of the chair. Blackbeard slowly walked over to the fire, pulling on heavy gloves as he did so, and lifted the poker out of the flames, before turning and heading towards Aramis.

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D'Artagnan's horse pulled up lame an hour into their journey next morning. He climbed up in back of Athos, and they headed for the nearest village, leading the lame horse. Once there, their luck changed for the better, as the blacksmith agreed to allow them to use his horse, on condition that they returned it in the same shape as it was at the moment. He also agreed to take care of the lame horse's leg for them while they were gone. It seems a Musketeer had once saved his son, by pulling him out of a river he had fallen into, and the blacksmith was so grateful that his son had not come to any harm, that he wanted vowed to help any Musketeers he encountered in the future, if they ever needed anything.

The brothers were touched by the kindness they had encountered. It had been a stroke of very bad luck when the horse had pulled up lame, but thanks to the kindness of the blacksmith, they had only lost a couple of hours instead of a day taken from their hurried journey.

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Marie-Louise heard her cousin's carriage arriving, and waited impatiently for him to enter the house. As soon as he had, accompanied by his estate manager, Mattieu, she spoke to him. "Eduard, may I speak with you, please?"

He replied, "Just let me wash and change first, Marie-Louise. It has been a long, eventful overseeing of the changes needed to be done to my estate, and I am tired. I will see you in a couple of hours. Please wait for me then in the library."

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Aramis slowly fought his way back to consciousness hours after Blackbeard and his men had finished and left. His whole chest felt like it was on fire, and he was in agony. He was again on the floor, his arms still bound behind him. His shirt had been cut off of him before they started. The chill and dampness of the dungeon seeped through his whole being, but even that cold didn't begin to dent the fire on his chest. His breathing was coming in gasps, as he struggled to calm himself down.

He was also getting feelings of certainty that no one would ever come to his rescue. At first, even though thinking no one could find him, at the back of his mind and in his heart, he still had hope that the men who called him brother would find a way. But he didn't think they would have any way of knowing he was down here, or how to get in if they did. He was despairing of his plight. He knew they would be back soon, and probably with an even more horrendous torment for him, although he couldn't conceive of anything worse than what had already been done to him.

As he lay helpless in his cell, his thoughts turned to prayer for comfort, unknowingly doing exactly as he would have done if he had his memory intact. He prayed with all his heart for the three men who called him friend and brother. He knew that even though he still had no memories of them, that God had gifted them as brothers, and he prayed that He would keep them safe if they knew to venture onto these lands to find him. He fervently wished that they would not be harmed trying to get to him, but would have the chance to live long, happy lives long past his death. Because he was feeling now that it might not be long before he succumbed to the torments upon him, he wished for the best for those who were the only people he had known from his past, unknown life.

He tried to stay conscious, but the pain was just too great, and the darkness claimed him once more. Only this time, nightmares visited him.


	21. Chapter 21

A very dark chapter, as Aramis gets hints of his past, but does he realize what he is experiencing?

A short apology. For anyone who speaks French, as I do, I did spell the Compte's first name wrong when I posted it. I had typed it correctly as Edouard (French version of Edward), but didn't check again before posting. For some reason, sometimes when I type French words, it tries to correct to whatever it thinks the word should be-lol.

And I want to say again how much I appreciate the reviews of my story. I can't believe there are so many! I have always wanted to write, and fanfiction gives me such a wonderful opportunity to do it!

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Aramis began having frightening nightmares coming into his unconscious mind. The figures in the dreams flashed through his mind in short pieces, but he could never see any of the faces. They were like shadows. Most were scenes of violence. They appeared suddenly from a black void. An explosion, with men's bodies flying sideways from the force of the blast. A chain wielded like a weapon hitting a figure across his torso. A figure being restrained by many hands as a sharp blade was about to descend. He thrashed about weakly, trying to escape the images he was seeing in the dream. A female figure lying in someone's arms dying. The nightmares continued. Figures everywhere, lying in snow stained with blood, crows descending. A figure flying backwards out of a window-falling, falling. "No! No!" , he cried, frantic with fear. He finally came gasping back to consciousness, shaking from what he had experienced. Not aware enough yet of where he was, he was confused by the total blackness of his surroundings. Trying to sit up, he found it impossible to do so. Confused, he didn't know what was happening.

Then, gradually, awareness came back. He was in a dungeon, at the mercy of unmerciful men. His arms were restrained tightly behind his back. He could feel the iron collar around his neck, making it impossible to move more than a couple of feet from the wall at his back. The twin deprivations of hunger and thirst gnawed at him. Unbelievable pain radiated constantly throughout his body. He had awakened from one nightmare to find himself still in another.

He badly needed sleep, but did not want to lose consciousness again after what he had just experienced. He felt totally exhausted, and full of despair. He turned to prayer once again, finding it the only thing that could slightly calm him. Some were recited prayers of the Church, a few moments of peace amidst the agony. Most were anguished pleas for an end to his plight.

And then, he heard the door being unlocked again.

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"Well, isn't this a fine morning," Blackbeard boomed, as he came through the door. "Maybe we will get some answers out of you today, what do you say?"

Aramis blearily looked up at his tormentor, continuing to maintain the silence that was infuriating the man, who nodded his head at the men accompanying him.

They leaned down and, grabbing hold of Aramis arms, yanked him to his feet. Aramis' head spun from the sudden motion, but he was held upright by the arms of his jailors. They cut through the ropes around his wrists, but he had no feeling there now to resist at all. They tured him so that he was facing the wall, closed iron shackles around his wrists, and pulled them up to attach the shackles to the iron ring he had seen earlier. His back was to his tormentors, so he could not see what they were planning now.

Blackbeard came up next to him, lifting a leather belt so he could see it dangling from his fist. "You really don't want to feel this hitting your back, now do you, Musketeer? Last chance. Tell us where the girl is and this is all over, and we give you a nice, painless death."

As with each other time he had been threatened, Aramis simply stared back at Blackbeard, silent. He could practically feel the anger and menace emanating from the man.

"You had your chance, Musketeer," Blackbeard growled, stepping back and behind Aramis.

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Marie-Louise knocked at the door of her cousin's library at the time he had requested two hours later, impatient to speak with him. He called out to enter, and was standing behind his desk as she walked in and took a seat. He came around the desk, softly laying his hands upon her shoulders and kissing her on each cheek as he always did.

"Edouard, I am sorry to disturb you so quickly after you returned, but it is rather an emergency, I fear," she said.

"What is wrong, my dear," he asked, concern showing on his face. He loved his pretty cousin, and didn't like to see her upset like he could tell she was.

"First, I have to give you a slight background, Edouard," she continued, then told him about finding Aramis, bringing him back to the estate and caring for him.

"Nicholas has been extremely rude to him, insulting him whenever he comes into the room. He said he was going to send his men to take him back to Paris. But the stablehand said no one had taken any horses, and so I fear Nicholas may have taken him somewhere else, meaning to harm him." Her hands,as she spoke,were wringing a handkerchief in her worry.

Mattieu had seen Marie-Louise go into the library to the Comte, and listened at the door. He was a very inquisitive man, and felt he needed to know all of Saintonge's business in order to be a good estate manager. At least, he convinced himself that was the reason he was very nosy. But now, he was glad he did. He worked for Saintonge, but he had always had a special place in his heart for Nicholas, another reason he listened at doors. He would protect him, at all costs, from any trouble, regardless of the things he knew the young man was guilty of.

Backing away from the door, he sought out Nicholas, telling him what he had just heard.

Nicholas swore, filling in Mattieu about the doings in the dungeon and exactly who Aramis was, and then said, "My cousin has put her nose where it does not belong. We need to get that Musketeer off the grounds before my brother has the place searched. He and I used to play down there as children, and he is liable to figure that is where I would have taken the Musketeer. We will just remove him to to the hunting lodge of a friend who is in Paris at the moment, and no one will be the wiser."

They were unable to proceed further, as hard, insistent knocking sounded at the door. When the servant opened the door, Athos, Porthos and d'Artagnan stood in the doorway demanding to speak to the Comte immediately.

Backing away down the hallway, Nicholas and Mattieu went by a circuitous route down to the nether regions of the chateau.

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Reaching the cell in the dungeon, Nicholas and Mattieu entered to find Blackbeard, armed with a large leather belt, drawing his arm back to strike. He obviously had already started, as Aramis' back had two bloody stripes across it already.

Nicholas beckoned Blackbeard over, and led him outside the cell door, not wanting Aramis to hear his words. He addressed Blackbeard, telling him, "This, as entertaining as it would be to watch, will have to wait. Musketeers are at our door, demanding to speak with my brother. My lovely cousin is already with him, informing him that the Musketeers is missing, and that she suspects I have plans to harm him. Little does she know. We need him to be transferred to a friend's hunting lodge immediately. I will give you directions. He doesn't look like he is capable of making much sound that could alert them, but you never know with these Musketeers. Gag him to prevent that possibility. Take him out through the old abandoned tunnel in the west end, and get him away from her as quickly as possible. I will join you as soon as I am able. I am anxious to get our information, and be done with this nuisance which has intruded itself into my life. Now, go!"


	22. Chapter 22

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Reaching the cell in the dungeon, Nicholas and Mattieu entered to find Blackbeard, armed with a large leather belt, drawing his arm back to strike. He obviously had already started, as Aramis' back had two bloody stripes across it already.

Nicholas beckoned Blackbeard over, and led him outside the cell door, not wanting Aramis to hear his words. He addressed Blackbeard, telling him, "This, as entertaining as it would be to watch, will have to wait. Musketeers are at our door, demanding to speak with my brother. My lovely cousin is already with him, informing him that the Musketeer is missing, and that she suspects I have plans to harm him. Little does she know. We need him to be transferred to a friend's hunting lodge immediately. I will give you directions. He doesn't look like he is capable of making much sound that could alert them, but you never know with these Musketeers. Gag him to prevent that possibility. Take him out through the old abandoned tunnel in the west end, and get him away from here as quickly as possible. I will join you as soon as I am able. I am anxious to get our information, and be done with this nuisance which has intruded itself into my life. Now, go!"

Aramis' eyes were squeezed shut from the pain of the leather belt hitting his back, when he felt the shackles being unlocked and removed from his wrists. Did someone finally come to save him? Was his torture over, he wondered dazedly. Blinking his eyes open, his hopes were dashed when his eyes fell upon the same evil captors taking him down from where he had been hanging. They dropped him callously to the floor, causing him to grunt in pain. Pulling his arms behind him, his wrists were once again bound. He felt a fist grab a handful of his hair and pull his head back. A cloth was inserted into his mouth and tied bitterly tight behind his head. What was happening? Why are they moving so rapidly? Where are they taking me now?

LIfting him under his arms, they proceeded to drag him out the door of his cell, and down the corridor to a thick wood door, which they proceeded to unlock. The door creaked open, like it had not been used for a long time. The men waited at the door, Aramis hanging between them, while two other men moved along the dark corridor beyond the men were carrying lit torches, setting them in iron holders set into the wall, giving off enough light to maneuvre through the corridor.

The men continued dragging Aramis between them down the corridor, cobwebs hanging from the ceiling and a close, musty smell permeating the damp air. Finally, they arrived at another door, which also needed to be unlocked.

Exiting the door into afternoon sunshine, Aramis closed his eyes at its brightness after the dark gloom of his cell. There was a cart waiting for them. They threw Aramis on the cart, and a couple of old blankets were spread over him, hiding him from the view of anyone who they might pass while exiting the estate grounds. One of the men leaned down and threatened Aramis,"One sound or movement from you, and what you've already been through will seem like child's play compared with what we will do to you."

As the cart rumbled on its way, Aramis' despair grew. He had no idea where they were taking him now. Having been dragged down the hallway had done no good to his abused body. His knees had now joined the host of injuries plaguing him, as being dragged had caused them to keep banging against the floor of the corridors, causing new bruises. He almost passed out several times as the motion of the cart shifted his body around. The gag severely restricted his breathing, and being underneath the blankets took more air away. The cell he had been taken from had been so far underground, and its walls so thick, it must have protected him from the bitter cold conditions now making themselves evident. They had cut his shirt off of his body in order to have full access to torment him with the burning poker, so in the increasing cold outside, he was shivering from having no garment from the waist up to protect him.

The interminable trip finally came to an end. He had no idea how far they had gone, when the cart stopped, and the blankets were peeled off of him. His arms were once again grabbed, and he was pulled from the cart and dragged into a building in a secluded wooded area. He didn't see anyone else around, other than his captors.

Taking him down a hallway and opening the door at the end, they deposited him on the floor in the middle of a cold, bare room, for the first time tying his ankles together. Roughly pulling the gag from his mouth, they said to him, "Don't need that here. No one would hear you here if you screamed any more than they could down in the dungeon." The laughed and left, locking the door behind them. He wondered to himself why they kept locking doors, when he was tied as he was. At least, the collar and chain had not been put on him again. This room was far colder and unprotected than the dungeon cell had been. He couldn't stop the shivers that had begun during the journey in the cart. He thought to himself that if his injuries didn't kill him, the cold, plus the lack of food and water certainly might.

It was getting less and less likely that he was going to be rescued. It was bad enough in the dungeon, but at least, somewhere overhead there were other people, so his mind conceived that maybe a mistake might be made-something overheard, some clue mistakenly left that would lead to his discovery and rescue. That had, unfortunately, not happened, and now, he was somewhere out in the middle of nowhere, it seemed, surrounded by forest on three sides. While he was being taken from the cart into the lodge, he had seen no other people anywhere, just Blackbeard and his men. He had no illusions that Blackbeard and his men would not resume the torments upon him. They still wanted the information he refused to give them. He just hoped and prayed that he could keep his silence-for Fleur's safety.

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Athos, Porthos and d'Artagnan were ushered into the library where Saintonge and Marie-Louise had been talking. Saintonge came to his feet as they entered.

"Gentlemen, I did not expect to see you again. Is there something amiss?" he asked.

"Monsieur," Athos began, "we regret to have to share this information with you, but it is necessary to save our friend's life."

"What is wrong?", Saintonge asked, concern spreading over his features at these words.

"We believe your younger brother, Nicholas, attempted to kill him once, and kidnap him twice now. He believes our friend saw some illegal activities he was engaged in, and tried to remove the witness."

He got no further, as Saintonge, a furious look on his face, leapt to his feet. "I will not have my brother maligned in my own house. I am aware that he tends to push his attentions a little too far with the women he is attracted to, but that is far from an illegal activity."

"Monsieur, we have concrete evidence that your brother beat and raped a young woman, and thought our friend saw it happen. She has told us what happened, and that he bragged that he had done this many times. We brought the young woman back to Paris with us. Your brother believes our friend saw the attack happen, so he had orders given to take care of the witness. He had our friend thrown down an embankment, nearly killing him."

Saintonge was silent now, beginning to realize that the 'harmless' pursuits his brother was being protected from were nowhere near harmless, in reality. He also was silently deciding that he did not want to protect that behavior any longer if it was this bad.

Taking a deep breath, he spoke. "Gentleman, I fear I have seriously misjudged my brother, and his pursuits. My cousin here has been telling me what has been happening here. My dear, would you share this with these Musketeers. It's all right. Be entirely truthful. The Saintonge name is no longer going to be a party to what Nicholas has been doing."

She shared with them what she had just told her cousin, namely that she had found Aramis by the side of the road and insisted they take him into their carriage, bring him back here, and tend his injuries. Nicholas had been escorting her back from Paris to spend a few weeks at the Saintonge estate. Nicholas vehemently protested bringing some 'lowlife', as he insisted on calling Aramis, into their carriage, and into his home. But she had insisted.

Today, Nicholas had visited Aramis in his room, where he was recovering, and insisted that his men 'escort' him back to Paris immediately. Since Aramis had told her they would be coming for him in one hour,she went down to the kitchens to have cook prepare some food to take with him on the journey. But when she came back to his room with the food, he was gone already.

She told them about talking to the stablehand, who had told her no horses had been taken out. She said she feared for Aramis' life, that Nicholas' men must have taken him somewhere, maybe on the grounds itself.

Athos, Porthos and d'Artagnan looked at each other, worried, and Athos spoke again.

"Monsieur, do you have any idea where they might take Aramis that would be close? The people you employ would have seen a group of men leaving the estate, so it would have to be very close, but completely out of sight."

Saintonge was silent for a few moments. Then, he spoke up, saying, "He and I used to play hide and seek in the old dungeons under the estate. Someone could be down there, and never seen or heard. If he has done this, I will disown him for disgracing our family name like this. I will show you where it is. Follow me, please."

Heading out of the library and down the hall, he turned right and unlocked a door, beckoning them to follow him down the steep steps revealed in the light. As they started down the steps, d'Artagnan and Porthos grabbed a couple of the torches set in the walls, to give them the needed light to see better where they were going.

Reaching the bottom, Saintonge hesitated. "I do not know which cell they might have used, if this is where they took him. We will have to begin at one end and look in each one of them."

Saintonge used a master key from a drawer of his desk, that he had slipped into his pocket before leaving his library. One by one, they opened each cell door, revealing abandoned, darkened cells-each one empty. The Musketeers were beginning to think maybe Aramis had been taken somewhere else, when Saintonge opened the last door on the right.

The dim light revealed a collar and chain lying on the floor, the chain attached to the wall. Looking more closely, their hearts clenched when they saw blood on the floor, on the wall. A discarded poker lay on the floor, blood also staining the tip and sides of the implement. Saintonge looked like he was about to become violently sick at what he was looking at. The Musketeers looked at each other, worry etching their faces, as they saw that Aramis may well have been there, but no one was any longer occupying the cell.

Where was their friend? What had they done to him, with him? Where did they take him? Frantic with fear for their brother, they began searching all around the cell for any clue that could help them to find him.


	23. Chapter 23

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It was d'Artagnan who first noticed the marks on the floor, which he also noticed went through the door and down the corridor-marks like something, or someone, had been dragged. Both the floor of the cell and of the corridor beyond were very dirty, probably from years of disuse. The dust had gathered, and it was in that dust that he found the marks. Calling the others, he pointed out the marks, and with somewhat renewed hope, they followed the path it made down the corridor, through the door at the end of that hallway, and beyond. Finally, the marks led to another door, that when opened, brought them outside.

Looking around, they found cart tracks leading away from the chateau. Hopeful once again, Athos told d'Artagnan to bring around their horses. Saintonge insisted upon riding with them, and went around with d'Artagnan to instruct his stablehand to saddle a horse for him.

Athos and Porthos, looked at each other, and Athos said, "We may finally find our brother."

Porthos replied, "We need t' get to 'im before they resume th' torture we saw th' signs of in that cell, Athos. An' we don't know what shape e's in, either."

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Aramis was left totally alone for some time, wondering when they would come through the door to hurt him again. He was half-frozen from the cold. It hurt to breathe, and he wondered how many ribs they had cracked or broken from the beatings. The burns were a constant agony on his chest, a fire that just didn't go out. He didn't know how long he could endure the pain they inflicted on him. He had no way to escape, no way to prevent anything they wanted to do to him.

And then, the door opened, and Blackbeard had returned. "I think it's time to resume what was so rudely interrupted," and nodded to his men.

They once more grabbed him, and pulled him up. Cutting through the ropes binding his wrists, they again fastened the shackles instead, and pulled him over to the wall. There was an old rusty hinge up on the wall. They turned him to face the wall, and fastened the other end of the chain attached to the shackles to the hinge, causing his arms to be pulled high in the air.

Aramis' breathing was coming fast as he couldn't help feeling panic at what was to happen. They were positioning him exactly the way they had before, and he knew Blackbeard would be standing behind him with the leather belt. He had been so thankful to have only endured the lash of the belt twice. Now, they would be uninterrupted in their cruelty.

"This should prove interesting," Nicholas' voice, strangely full of excited fascination, spoke from behind him. "I wonder how long a Musketeer can endure the strength behind your lashes," he said to Blackbeard. "Just remember, I expect this time to see him break, to babble out answers to anything we ask him. Then, we can take care of him and the girl and bury them together, where no one will be the wiser. Proceed!"

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The Musketeers, accompanied by an armed Saintonge, followed the trail of the cart. They figured that Nicholas and the others had been in such a rush to get away that they had not even thought of trying to cover the trail of wheel tracks. Aramis' brothers were just grateful that the trail was there for them to follow. It headed in a southerly direction, down dirt roads and across fields. They had no idea where the cart was headed, so they couldn't plan ahead to cut them off if they slowed down.

Unfortunately, when the trail led down a slight incline to the edge of a river, the tracks disappeared!

They had been so elated to finally feel that their search would soon be over, and now this. They fanned out, hunting for any sign of the tracks to reappear. With no luck, and a sense of growing frustration and near panic for their brother's safety, they moved further out, combing the ground with eyes trained to search out evidence. Nothing.

Just as they were beginning to have the horrible feeling that Nicholas, Blackbeard and their henchmen had disappeared completely, d'Artagnan called from the furthest point in their search, waving his arms in the air to make sure he got their attention. Nearing him at a full gallop, he shouted, "They must have realized they needed to cover their trail, as I found what looked to be a branch used to wipe the cart tracks from view. But they didn't have time to do it all the way to whatever is their destination, as they begin again here!", pointing to the once-lost cart tracks in front of him. So they began following the wheel marks again.

Saintonge had been very quiet as they followed the tracks, but now spoke up. "I know where he is going."

Athos looked at him, "Where?"

A friend of his has a hunting lodge not far from here, in the direction the tracks have been leading. His friend has been in Paris for several months, and Nicholas probably felt very safe using the place. I am sure that is where we will find them."

Moving more quickly, they now knew where they were going, and hastened to get there and rescue their beloved brother.

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Once again, when they had finished with the new round of abuse, Aramis' shackles were unlocked, and he dropped helplessly,to land painfully on the ground. His arms yet again were bound tightly behind his back, and then he was left lying on his side on the dirty floor.

He had lost consciousness several times during Blackbeard's beating. Each time, freezing cold water was thrown at him, bringing him back to the pain from which he had briefly escaped. He lay now, shivering from being drenched with cold water in a room that felt almost as cold as if it was outdoors. His back was a mess of crisscrossed welts, ragged, open and bleeding. The pain was unbelievable. Even taking a deep breath pulled at the edges of the welts, taking his breath away. He was almost at the stage of giving up any hope of surviving his captivity.

Suddenly, the door opened. He couldn't help letting out a groan, as when the door to his cell usually opened, pain happened. Nicholas and Blackbeard rushed in, Nicholas telling Blackbeard to, "Shut him up! We do not want the men our lookout just spotted to know where he is. Quickly! It might even be the Musketeers, as we foolishly forgot to cover our tracks until much too late."

Aramis vaguely heard what was being said, somewhat reviving some hope in his heart that it might be Athos, Porthos and d'Artagnan approaching. He barely had time to let this thought occur, than Blackbeard grabbed a handful of his hair, yanking his head back as far as it could go. One-handed, he shoved a gag into Aramis' mouth, then letting go of his hair, tied a knot tightly behind his head. "There, that will keep that mouth shut that we have been trying so hard for days to get you to open! No one will know you are even in here, and now you can't alert them, can you?", he taunted him.

Blackbeard left the room, intent upon readying his men and their weapons for a fight. Nicholas stayed in the room with Aramis instead.

Aramis watched uneasily as Nicholas paced back and forth, nervous energy in every line of his body as he anticipated the encounter ahead.

Stopping suddenly at Aramis' side, he stooped down and looked at him. The way he looked made Aramis even more uneasy.

"You, Musketeer, are not long for this world now. You had a chance to save your miserable life, and chose not to take it. That was a big mistake. We may have to wait until we take care of the men outside, but I have already given the men orders for your death. Since you were so uncooperative with us, I'm afraid your death will be as painful as we can make it. I will let you anticipate it-think about a dagger thrust into your gut, and then bleeding out with no one around for miles. Your death could take hours. Does that strike fear into your heart, Musketeer? You should never have interfered and stuck your nose where it does not belong. My pretty little cousin will feel my wrath, as well. I have not yet decided on a fitting 'punishment' for her, but it will be something she will long remember."

The thunder of the horses' hooves could be heard approaching now. Suddenly, gunfire was heard, and returned immediately by those in the building. One of Nicholas' men cried out as he was hit. Then, another. The gunfire continued. Aramis hoped it was the men who called him brother. Then, the sound of someone kicking the front door in, followed by the sound of steel against steel, as rapiers had replaced pistols.

Nicholas was suddenly behind Aramis, and dragging him to a sitting position. Aramis' cry of pain was muffled by the gag, as Nicholas now drew his main gauche. Fisting one hand in Aramis' hair, he yanked his head back, and laid the dagger against the tender skin under his chin.

"Let's see if they care about your miserable life, Musketeer, and move aside to allow me to leave, or if they let me cut your throat," Nicholas snarled, waiting for them to break down the door of the room.

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	24. Chapter 24

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The Musketeers and Saintonge spotted the hunting lodge, surrounded on three sides by forest. Dismounting and drawing their pistols, the cautiously approached the house. When they were about 50 yards from the building, Athos spotted the glint of a gun barrel at the front window, and opened fire. The sharp cry from within told him he had hit whoever had been aiming at them. It also told him they had definitely found the right place.

Gradually moving closer while they kept firing, they reached the heavy wood of the front door. Athos glanced at Porthos, who turned his shoulder towards the door and slammed into it, knocking it off its hinges.

Not knowing the layout of the building, or where they were keeping Aramis, they proceeded cautiously. Hearing the metallic hiss of a rapier being unsheathed, they all drew their own blades, as Blackbeard's men came forward towards them. Engaging blades, they fought furiously, wanting to take care of these men as fast as possible to find Aramis. They were outnumbered by Blackbeard's men, but fighting against larger odds had never deterred them in the past. Athos, fighting the leader, Blackbeard, took next to no time before he could tell the man was no expert with a blade. As he sometimes did when his opponent was an inferior opponent who also disgusted him by his reprehensible actions, he began toying with him, seemingly able to move him about at will with his blade.

Engaged as he was fighting Blackbeard, Athos still saw out of the corner of his eye, one of the men slipping out of the room and down the hallway. He caught Porthos' eye, motioning to him to follow the man. Porthos, to end the fight with the man before him, simply shot his fist out and caught the man under the chin, knocking him out cold. Then, he took off in the direction of the man they had seen fleeing down the hallway a moment before.

He heard a door close down the hallway, and following, stopped in front of the door at the end. Slowly turning the latch, he opened the door. What he saw in the middle of the room caused his attention to be diverted. Aramis, bound and gagged, was on his knees, an arm around his neck, and the edge of a wicked-looking dagger laid under his chin against his neck. That diversion was just enough for the man hidden behind the door to fire his pistol, causing Porthos to be thrown back against the wall, and slide slowly to the ground senseless.

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Aramis, held rigid with the knife at his throat, saw the man come through the door, looking around behind him as he closed the door and stood behind it. He saw Porthos burst through the door and freeze when he saw him on his knees in front of him. But Aramis could also see what Porthos did not, as the hidden man raised and aimed his pistol at him. Aramis was helpless to warn Porthos, the gag stifling his scream of warning, causing it to sound like a moan instead of the frantic warning he was trying to give. He watched as the shot hit Porthos, and saw his dear friend slam against the wall and slide down to lie still in a heap. He was crying Porthos' name,tears falling down his cheeks, and saying, "No! No!," but the garbled moans that were all that came out made no sense at all.

And then, Nicholas was brutally shaking his head with his fist in his hair, threatening in a low tone in his ear, "I am going to cut your throat if you don't keep quiet, Musketeer," slamming his knee into the small of Aramis' back to rob him of any breath to make a sound, and causing him to choke from the blow. Nicholas shook his head brutally again, saying, "They are going to let me walk right out of here, Musketeer. And then I will regroup, and make them all pay for daring to attack me. But you will not see it. You will be dead," uttering his threats to the silently sobbing Musketeer, who was still staring at his friend lying still on the floor.

Nicholas waited, sure the other Musketeers would be appearing at any moment. He would have his surprise waiting for them also.

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Blackbeard was a dirty fighter. He figured whatever won a fight for him was fair. He knew he didn't stand a chance against what he recognized as a brilliant swordsman. So he fought on his own terms. First, he tried tripping Athos up by slicing his foot under the Musketeer's feet. Athos gracefully sidestepped. With a slight upward tilt of his lips that might have looked like the beginnings of a smile, if it wasn't for the fact that the smile never reached his eyes, Athos nicked Blackbeard's shoulder, drawing blood. Next, Blackbeard flung the kerchief from his pocket towards Athos' eyes, but Athos just ducked-and sliced across his opponent's chest, again drawing blood. Then, in a lightning fast move, he disarmed Blackbeard, sending the man's sword spinning across the floor to rest against the wall.

Surrender, monsieur," Athos said. Having no choice, Blackbeard nodded, But Athos knew better than to relax his vigilance. Hardly had Blackbeard finished nodding than he pulled his main gauche, intending to stab Athos. But Athos stepped to the side with ease, and buried his sword in Blackbeard's chest, killing him instantly. Leaving him laying there, he quickly looked around to see that d'Artagnan and Saintonge had taken care of the last of the enemy still in the room. Porthos had not come back from his pursuit of the runaway yet.

Saintonge volunteered to keep a watch over the defeated men, knowing Athos and d'Artagnan had someone very dear to them to find in this building. "Go, go," he said. "I have things well in hand here. Find your friend."

Deciding to check each room down the hallway, Athos began on the left, d'Artagnan on the right, opening doors. When they reached the last door of the hallway, they drew their pistols before opening the door.

They were as shocked and speechless as Porthos had been a few moments before at the sight that met them. Aramis was still on his knees, his head pulled back by the hair, and the dagger still resting against his neck. Aramis still hadn't seen them, tears flowing down his cheeks as his whole attention was on something to their right. Looking, they beheld Porthos crumpled and still against the wall.

Before they could do anything, Nicholas spoke up, saying, "You will lay down your weapons now, Musketeers."

They didn't move. Nicholas savagely shook Aramis' head, causing him to moan in pain from behind the gag, a thin line of red appearing on his neck. Nicholas shouted again, "Lay down your weapons now and keep silent, if you want your friend to live!"

This time, they slowly lowered their weapons, dropping them to the ground.

"So a Musketeer can really obey a command. Good! Now, move out of my way. I am leaving with your pathetic little friend here. If I see or hear one movement from you, I will slit his throat. Do you understand me?"

Athos could see that Aramis was badly injured, and having trouble getting enough air into his lungs to breathe. His face had a traumatized look that was heartbreaking to behold as he continued to look at Porthos.

"You will never get away from here, Saintonge," Athos said in a quiet voice. "Surrender now, and let our friend go."

Nicholas replied, "You do not listen. I said keep silent. I do not want to hear anything from either of you, or I will use this knife on your friend now. Back away from the door!"

Not wanting to risk their friend's life, Athos and d'Artagnan complied with Nicholas' demands, moving away from the door. Nicholas dragged Aramis to his feet, shifting the knife slightly so that the point was now against his throat instead of the flat of the blade, and moved to the door. He propelled Aramis around the doorway and started down the hallway. A shot suddenly rang out, and Nicholas, with a strangled cry, dropped to the floor, the knife clattering after him. Aramis crumpled to the ground on boneless legs, unconscious before he had even landed.

The Musketeers acknowledged the shot of Saintonge, as he stepped forward with a smoking pistol hanging from his fingers. To have to kill his only brother must have been wrenching for the Comte, but he was not going to let his brother continue to hurt, maim and kill people. He had needed to be stopped, and he took the responsibility upon himself. Kneeling next to his slain brother, Saintonge laid his hand on his head, saying, "Why, little brother? I gave you anything you ever asked for. Why?", as tears silently rolled down his cheeks.

Athos and d'Artagnan knelt at Aramis's side, and Athos laid two fingers against his throat for a pulse. Sighing in profound relief, he said, "Our brother lives." Gently stroking Aramis' hair, Athos knew how close they had come to losing their beloved brother. He knew also that they needed to check him for injuries. But for just a moment, he needed to just touch and feel that Aramis was truly alive and with them, continuing to gently tousle his hair. He noticed that d'Artagnan was also feeling the same way, as his hand was on Aramis' shoulder.

After a few moments, Athos said,"Would you see to Porthos, please, while I begin to check out Aramis' injuries?" D'Artagnan stood and moved over to Porthos. Looking up at Athos a few moments later, d'Artagnan said, "He should be fine. The bullet just grazed his forehead. He will probably have a headache for a day or two, but he will recover," as he fondly pattd the curled locks laying before him.

Athos nodded in acknowledgement, as he began to check Aramis for injuries. He used his knife to carefully cut the gag from his mouth, realizing he could never have undone the knot as it was tied so brutally tight. Then, he did the same for his wrists, seeing how torn and bloody the skin there was, with deep indentations from having been bound for so long. His face and torso were terribly black and purple with bruises, obviously having been beaten repeatedly. He suspected several ribs were either cracked or broken, from the massive bruising in that area. His torso, from his shoulders to his waist was covered with burn marks, some from a pointed object , some from something laid flat against his skin. Athos held his boiling anger in check, remembering the bloody poker they had found in the dungeon,thinking of what his brother must have gone through. Turning him slightly, even that slight motion eliciting a moan from Aramis, his stomach churned at the sight of his back. Large bloody welts crisscrossed his entire back, from shoulder to waist, the skin swollen in between the welts, and so fresh, it must have been done shortly before they got there. He couldn't even imagine how much pain his beloved friend must be in.

He wondered if Aramis had been given any food or water, and if he had much sleep during his captivity. Only time would tell, but from the dryness of his lips and skin, he doubted very much if he had any sustenance given him. None of them could ever understand the workings of a mind that could harm another person simply to obtain information from them. They had rescued soldiers captured by their enemies, and tortured for information. It sickened them. What had been done to Aramis was even worse than the prisoners of war they had seen.

As Athos tended to Aramis, he recalled the look on his brother's face as he looked at the still form of Porthos. Did he remember? His countenance was so stricken, he may well have. But they would not know until he had regained consciousness. And even then, they would wait to talk to him about it until he was strong enough-if he survived (when he survived, he reminded himself).


	25. Chapter 25

Sorry for making you wait for so long. Busy week. Aramis is finally reunited with his brothers. All but one of the bad guys are captured or killed. (Yes, there is one more!) Thank you again for all of your kind reviews, and for liking, following and reviewing my story!

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Saintonge came to stand beside Athos, asking, "How is he?"

Athos replied, "Alive, but but very badly injured. I will need to tend his injuries before he can be moved."

Saintonge said, "Please consider my home yours until he and your other friend" indicating Porthos, "are well enough to travel. It is the least I can do for all the harm my brother did. They can be tended by my personal physician, if that is acceptable to you."

Athos, touched by the sincerity he could hear in Saintonge's voice, accepted, saying, "We all appreciate your offer of hospitality. Besides the severity of Aramis' injuries, I am very much afraid of infection setting in. The dirt of the cell floor has almost certainly entered the torn skin. His injuries will need to be cleaned thoroughly, sewn and bandaged. We have ascertained that Porthos' wound looks worse than it is, and he should be coming around shortly, for which we are very thankful."

Saintonge told him, "I had locked the men who are still living in the cellar. The lock is strong, and there is no window, so they can remain there until some of my men can come to take them wherever you deem acceptable for justice."

Aramis began to move restlessly as they spoke. Athos laid a hand softly on his head to comfort him, but Aramis flinched from his touch. Athos was startled by his reaction, then realized Aramis, in his half-conscious state, had no way of knowing that it wasn't Blackbeard's men come to torment him once again. His body reacted in fear. Athos leaned down, and whispering in Aramis' ear, said, "Aramis, it is Athos. You are safe now, brother. We will not let anyone harm you again. Rest now."

Athos could feel Aramis' body relax as he spoke to him. He realized that Aramis had been awake enough to feel his touch and hear his voice. He laid his hand on Aramis' head once more, and began to gently run his fingers through his hair, soothing his traumatized brother, who after a few moments, slipped back into sleep.

D'Artagnan had retrieved a bowl of water and some cloths from the kitchen area, and had sponged the area around where the bullet had grazed Porthos's forehead. Then, he had taken the supplies to Athos, so he could begin to treat Aramis' injuries. Turning back to Porthos, he grinned as he saw him awakening.

"Good to see you waking up, Porthos," d'Artagnan teased him. Porthos groaned in response, before all of a sudden freezing, and looking frantically around.

D'Artagnan, who had knelt down in front of him, knew what, or rather who, he was looking for. "Easy, brother, look," he said, as he moved slightly to his left, revealing Aramis and Athos.

"He is badly injured, but alive, Porthos," d'Artagnan said. "Saintonge has graciously invited us to bring you and Aramis to his chateau to recuperate. Porthos, he killed his own brother when Nicholas was trying to escape using Aramis as his hostage. We owe him Aramis' life."

Porthos, silent through all of this, said, "I was a fool barging in here without even looking around me. The enemy was already here, and I should have known better."

D'Artagnan shook his head, saying, "You love Aramis as we all do. You no doubt saw exactly the same thing we did when we first entered the room, Aramis on his knees with a knife at his throat. If that hadn't caught your attention first, I would have been shocked. You couldn't have known your assailant was hiding behind the door. But the bullet just grazed you. You will be fine."

Porthos began to slowly try to get up. D'Artagnan, knowing better than to keep him from Aramis, assisted him in rising and moving slowly over to see how his brother was.

Porthos knelt down beside Aramis, taking in the sight of his beloved brother, lying so still and bloody in front of him. He saw the countless bruises, the burn marks, cuts, gashes. His brother had been horrendously abused. Wordlessly,he looked up at Athos, a question in his eyes.

"We will wash, stitch and bandage his wounds, Porthos, and then we will have to wait," Athos said. "Aramis is strong, and we will all be there for him. If anyone can pull through this, it is our brother. But we need to be as gentle as possible with him. He has been traumatized beyond belief from every direction for some time now, and needs our love and care more than he ever has to pull him through," not voicing his silent hope that Aramis' memory may have started to return, as he needed to see more tangible proof first before getting Porthos' hopes up.

Athos began gently washing Aramis' face, the bruising looking even worse when the dirt had been cleaned away, especially the one on his left temple, which was swollen and almost black. He sponged his torso, from his shoulders to his waist, frowning at the amount of damage done. When he touched the burns with the sponge, Aramis moaned in response, they being extremely tender.

As Porthos reached out a hand toward's Aramis' head, Athos warned him, "Say his name first, and then yours. He doesn't know the hand is touching him in love, as all he has known for days when he is touched is pain, and he recoils in response. Porthos, shocked, leaned down and whispered, "Aramis, this is Porthos. We won't let anyone hurt, you brother." Gently, he laid his hand on Aramis' head. Porthos kept stroking his hair to calm him while Athos continued. Then, he asked d'Artagnan's help in turning Aramis over to work on his back. Porthos hissed when he saw what had been done there.

"What did they use on his back?", he asked, anger nearly boiling from him.

"I am guessing a belt, from the width of the welts," Athos sadly said. Aramis reacted much the same as he cleaned them as he had to the burn marks. These marks had been the most recent, still bleeding as he worked on them.

He knew he needed to stitch them closed, but decided to wait long enough to get him to the chateau, settling for gently wrapping clean cloths around his torso to protect it from more infection as they traveled.

D'Artagnan said,"I will find a few blankets and pillows to cushion the ride for him," heading out into the hallway as he spoke. A little while later, he returned, saying, "Everything is ready. We can move him now."

He and Athos cradled Aramis between them out to the cart, laying him atop the pile of blankets and positioning pillows around him. Porthos climbed into the cart and sat to his right, not wanting to leave Aramis out of his sight. Athos insisted, however, that Porthos recline to give his throbbing head some relief, having seen his brother's grimaces of pain whole coming outside. Porthos growled at him, but did as he asked. Athos moved to sit at Aramis' left, and again first letting Arqamis knowwho it was, began once more soothing his brother once again. D'Artagnan would be driving the cart, Saintonge leading the way on horseback. His brother's body would be retrieved once they all arrived at the chateau, but for now,was laid out in one of the hunting lodge's many bedrooms.

It seemed like such a long trip, as they were very concerned about the many ruts and bumps the cart went over as they traveled. Aramis reacted to some of them with low moans. There was nothing they could do, though, although they were very glad that d'Artagnan had so thoughfully remembered to find blankets and pillows to cushion things enough to take some of the roughness of the ride away.

Saintonge had ridden ahead as he neared his home, and they found that when they got there, he had arranged for two footmen to bring a trestle to carry Aramis upon. They had taken him to the room Marie-Louise had originally had him staying in. She was waiting when they brought him in, exclaiming in horror at what had been done to him. They soon had him lain on the large bed with satin sheets and piled high with blankets. Athos arranged pillows under his head, and pulled the blankets up to his chin. Aramis' skin was ice cold from having been half-clothed in late autumn weather for several days.

Marie-Louise told them the one of the servants had already ridden off to get Saintonge's physician, who lived in the nearby village. Athos asked if she could have some water brought up, as they didn't think Aramis had been given any liquids when he had been held prisoner. She hurried to get the water herself, glad to be able to be of some kind of assistance for the man she had been so worried about.

Bringing back a large ceramic pitcher, and a mug, she laid them on the bedside table. Athos filled the mug, and held it to Aramis' lips, saying, "Aramis, it's Athos. Please try to drink some water for me, brother."

After trying a couple more times, Aramis finally drank, his eyes never opening. Just the little movement seemed to tire him out even further, as he went limp once more after just a few sips. Athos said, "At least he was able to take a little in. We can try again later after the physician has been here."

The physician arrived a short while later, a small, rotund man with smiling eyes. The smile disappeared when he beheld his patient.

"What happened to him?", he asked, utterly shocked at Aramis' condition, probably never having seen the like in his life.

Athos explained what they believed had been done to Aramis, causing the physician to blanch when he heard about the torture. "Oh, the poor man," he exclaimed. "

Attempting to shoo everyone out of the room, the doctor obviously had never encountered the stubbornness of the Musketeers in seeking to remain with their beloved brother. All three of them adamently insisted on remaining in the room. Frustrated, he looked from one to the other of them, a question in his eyes.

Athos told him, "We will stay out of your way. We just have been so afraid we would never see him again, and might even lose him from how he has been tormented. We just need to be here so that he knows he is with those who love him now."

Nodding in understanding, the physician gave them a nod and smiled a little, saying he wished all his patients had friends who loved them that much. Then, he began his work.


	26. Chapter 26

I'm so sorry that I have not been able to see the reviews of the previous chapter. Fanfiction may have a glitch preventing them from being posted. I hope you are enjoying the story! I am definititely enjoying writing it.

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The doctor had barely begun his examination when Aramis suddenly lashed out, eyes closed, screaming, "No! No!", at his unseen enemy. He had no strength behind his movements, however, so he didn't injure the doctor, who nevertheless was very startled. Porthos and Athos quickly moved to gently but firmly hold their beleaguered brother down on the bed, telling him it was all right, there was no danger. It was only the doctor trying to help him. After a few moments, Aramis' movements stilled, his breathing still rapid and ragged.

The doctor checked his pulse, and told them Aramis had only been half-conscious, and was now out again. All three Musketeers stayed close to the bed, afraid that if Aramis woke again in the same state, he wouldn't have the ability to harm the doctor, but could very well further harm himself from his movements.

The doctor, whose name was Everard, further cleansed the injuries, then warned the Musketeers that he needed to stitch some of them closed, and it would be painful for Aramis if he awakened. They promised to try to keep Aramis from moving too much if that happened. But Aramis never awoke while the stitching was done, for which the Musketeers were very thankful. The last thing they wanted was for their brother to endure any more pain.

The physician next applied several poultices to Aramis' various wounds. He explained that infection may already have set in. He would have no way of knowing at the moment. He told them to watch Aramis carefully for the next few days, and if he developed a fever, to call him immediately. He wrapped Aramis' torso in clean white cloths, and bandaged the large bruise on his forehead.

He told them he would have to leave, but gave them pain medications and something for sleep, if he were to have nightmares. He told them to call him immediately if anything worsened, but that he would be back each , in any case, to see how he was doing, and then left.

Athos looked at Porthos and d'Artagnan, then turning to Marie-Louise, asked if she might have some bedding they could use. He explained that it was their way not to leave their injured brother alone, especially when he was in such a critical condition. He said none of them would sleep anywhere else.

Smiling, Marie-Louise told them she would have the maids bring plenty of bedding, and also three mattresses. "I'm not going to let Aramis' friends sleep on the floor, monsieurs," as she turned to leave.

When the mattresses and bedding arrived, Athos turned to Porthos and said, in his best commanding voice, "You will lie down on your bedding, and rest that hard head of yours, Porthos. You might think no one has seen that you are in pain, but I assure you that d'Artagnan and I have seen the grimaces you are trying so hard to hide, brother."

Porthos glared at Athos and thought about protesting, but knew he would lose the argument. He pushed the mattress over as close to Aramis' bed as he could, grabbed the bedding and laid down facing the bed. He would be up in an instant if he heard any movement or sound from his brother, as they all would.

D'Artagnan suggested that he could go down to the kitchen to get some meals for them all, and Athos, knowing his brother wanted to keep himself busy to ease his worry, said that was a good idea. D'Artagnan left the room, and found a servant to direct him towards the kitchen.

A slender, grey-haired man, who looked like someone not of the servant status, stopped him on his way.

"Monsieur, Mademoiselle Marie-Louise just told me we have an injured Musketeer and his friends staying with us. I am Mattieu, the Comte de Saintonge's estate manager. May I ask how the Musketeer is, and how it came about that he was injured?"

"You should ask the Comte for the details,monsieur. Please give him a little time, as he is mourning a death in the family at the moment. If you will excuse me?", and left.

Mattieu, knowing better than to ask his employer, and knowing the way servants always seemed to find out what was happening and transmit it to each other with record speed, tracked down the chateau's housekeeper, a small, white-haired bundle of busy energy named Francoise, and asked her details about the day's happenings 'so he would know best how to assist his employer while they had visitors'.

Francoise, used to Mattieu needing to be the Comte's right hand, and also always working closely with him, replied, "The Musketeers have just rescued their friend, who had been held captive by the Comte's brother. NIcholas was always wild, since he was a young boy, and seemed to get into such trouble. The Comte had to kill his own brother to save the Musketeer's life."

Mattieu couldn't believe what he had just heard. He stood stunned as the housekeeper bustled away with her duties. Nicholas was dead?! How could that be?

Mattieu had always been there for him, hiding the excesses of his activities. He had been there for him when Nicholas' father was away so much, and Nicholas grew to love him. Mattieu saw him secretly as the son he could never have. Nicholas would come to him when he was in trouble, and Mattieu would always take care of the matter, but not this time. He had not been there for him.

He had even lied and told Blackbeard that he, Mattieu, was speaking on behalf of the Comte, specifically so he could keep Nicholas' activities from being brought to Saintonge's attention. And all for nothing-Nicholas was dead.

As Mattieu continued walking, down the stairs and outside, his shock was starting to wear off, and anger was replacing it. Those Musketeers! Everything had always been under control until they showed up. They would be sorry. He would show them.


	27. Chapter 27

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D'Artagnan returned with a maid bringing trays of food for each of them. They had hoped Aramis might wake up so they could coax him to eat something, as they had no idea when he might have eaten last. But he remained unconscious. They finished their meal, and made ready for the night, each finding a space around Aramis' bed, not intending to leave his side now that they had found him.

Several hours later, all three of them were awakened by the restlessness of their brother, who was moaning and tossing his head, obviously in the throes of a nightmare, his whole body trembling. Porthos and d'Artagnan each grabbed a hand, while Athos stroked his hair. Porthos spoke softly to him, "Aramis, it's Porthos. Athos and d'Artagnan are here, too. You're all right. It's just a nightmare. Calm down, mon ami. You're safe." But Aramis' mind was somewhere else, and he didn't hear anyone speaking.

He was drenched from the fever, and tremors ran through his whole body. As weak as his body was from what he had been through, they were amazed that he was able to struggle as much as he was doing. He had no idea it was his brothers holding him. All he knew was the brutality of the men who had held him captive and tortured him so badly. He was gasping with the effort to resist, and they were so afraid he would injure himself further.

Athos spoke a moment later, in the same quiet, calm tone Porthos had used, hoping to dispel the terror he could hear in Aramis' voice. "Your tormentors are dead, Aramis. We will not let anything happen to you. Sleep. We will be here when you awaken." Not once did his brothers cease holding his hands and stroking his hair in their efforts to let him know he was with those who loved him.

Gradually, Aramis calmed down, the trembling eased, and Aramis went limp, as consciousness once more vanished. They all breathed a sigh of relief. It was very heart-wrenching to watch him suffering like this. It was quite a while before any of them returned to sleep that night.

Daylight dawned, but there was no sign of returning consciousness yet from their brother. Saintonge came with Marie-Louise to see how Aramis was faring, and was saddened by the state the Musketeer remained in. He once again told them they had freedom to do whatever they needed in his home while they were there, and asked if there was anything else he could do.

Athos spoke, saying, "There is, my Lord. I should have asked yesterday, but all of our attention was, and will remain, with our brother. Could you have someone take a message to our Captain at the Musketeers garrison in Paris, explaining the situation here? I would imagine once Treville receives it, he will be here very soon afterward, so you may have one more guest, if that is acceptable?"

The Comte told him he would see to it immediately. Then, he asked, "How is your friend doing?"

Athos told him, "He has not regained consciousness since we rescued him. His injuries are very bad, and he has now developed the fever from his wounds being infected that we were hoping he would not get. Last night, nightmares visited him of what was done to him while he was held captive. If the fever gets worse, we will call the doctor back sooner, but he has already said he would be coming once each day, and hopefully the fever will not rise."

Saintonge left them a short while later, sad that his brother had caused such pain to so many people.

Aramis never awakened that day, either. They tried getting him to swallow a little water around midday, and it worked for a few drops, but after that, nothing they tried induced him to swallow any more.

Twice during the day, he had nightmares again, but not on the scale of the previous night, for which they were very thankful. Dr. Everard came and examined his injuries again. He could plainly see the state of infection of some of them, and changed the poultices to another variety when he changed the dressings. He told them he hoped the new poultices would be successful, as he said Aramis was too weak to fight a long infection period. He was pleased that they had been able to get him to take a few drops of water, but said to keep trying, as dehydration would just weaken him further.

They managed to get him to take a little more water later in the day. That night, he seemed to be more restful when they went to sleep. They hoped maybe he could have a peaceful night, after the past day and night. It was right before dawn that Athos woke and, realizing the water pitcher was very low, went quietly out to get it filled. He was just opening the bedroom door on his return when he saw Aramis, shaky and hesitant in his movements, dragging his legs over the side of the bed. Before he could get to the bed, Aramis' feet had reached the floor and he was attempting to stand on them. When he was unable to and his legs were buckling, Porthos, who had awakened from an exceptionally deep sleep, reached and grabbed him before he hit the floor. Lifting him as easily as if he were a child, he gently deposited him on the bed again.

Aramis now began to whimper and cry out, attempting to get up again. "No, not Porthos, no!", he cried brokenly, again weakly trying to arise. He seemed frantic, as if he had to do something, and they were preventing him from it. His whole body was shaking from the effort he was putting into his unknown mission.

"Please, NO!", he suddenly screamed, his voice in agony.

Athos tried calming him down. "Aramis, it's Athos. You are all right. Porthos is all right, too," but Aramis began shaking his head, crying out Porthos' name in a broken voice. "They...killed him", he ended in a whisper, exhaustion setting in at last.

Athos now understood. Speaking once again in a quiet,calm voice, he said, "Aramis. Porthos is all right." But Aramis was trembling and shaking his head once more. "Dead," as his lower lip quivered from the hurt of even saying it.

Again, Athos, infinitely patient, told him, " Aramis, Porthos did not die. He was shot, but he did not die. Open your eyes, brother. Please, open your eyes and see."

For a moment, there was no reaction. Then, slowly, Aramis lifted his head. Athos gently turned his head towards Porthos. Again, he said, "Open your eyes, Aramis."

Slowly, Aramis' eyelids fluttered several times, as if opening his eyes was a strain. But then they opened, and when they did, he saw his beloved brother in front of him, smiling at him. He stared, as if the vision might suddenly go away, that what he was seeing couldn't be real because he had seen Porthos slamming into the wall from the gunshot.

"He is real, Aramis. Porthos is alive. We all are, brother."

Aramis lifted his arm, shaky and very weak still, and reached out to touch Porthos, almost as if he needed to have the physical touch to confirm what his eyes were telling him. When his fingers touched his arm, the tears began to fall. His brother was alive! He was alive! He didn't die! His fingers curled around Porthos' wrist, holding on as if he would never let him go.

Athos looked at d'Artagnan, then slowly reached out and placed his own hand over Aramis' quivering one. D'Artagnan followed with his own, as well. They remained in silence that way for a few moments, until Aramis' brothers were startled by their brother's voice, saying, "All for one". Suddenly, they all had tears in their eyes and wide smiles, at the realization that Aramis' memory had had their brother truly back, and replied, "And one for all."

Aramis was clearly worn out now, his body sagging, his eyes involuntarily closing, as if he couldn't keep awake. But he kept reopening them, needing to know that all of his brothers were with him once again. He would seek each brother's face in reassurance. Each time his eyes closed again, there was the hint of a smile quirking up one side of his lips.

Laying an exhausted Aramis back on the bed, he was asleep before they finished doing so. Porthos chuckled. Athos and d'Artagnan, looking up, saw Porthos pointedly look down at Aramis' hand, still grasping Porthos' wrist even after he was asleep, not wanting to break the contact. For the second time, smiles widened, and joy was written across all of their countenances.


	28. Chapter 28

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Aramis slept through most of the day, from the strain he had put on his traumatized body, plus the emotional up and down he had just experienced.

Towards evening, a knock sounded on the door, and Treville came in. "What in the blazes has been going on?" he asked, before he was even all the way in the room.

"Good evening, Captain," Athos deadpanned in response.

Treville headed straight for the bed, as soon as he saw Aramis lying there. Sitting down on the edge of the bed, Treville's eyes took in the bruises he could see on his Musketeer's face. With the blanket pulled to Aramis' chin, the Captain was as yet unaware that it was far worse than he could yet see.

"What happened to him?", Treville asked, worry written all across his face for his Musketeer.

"I take it Saintonge did not go into detail in his message to you?" Athos asked.

"The note told me one of you was injured, there were prisoners needing to be taken to Paris, and that all of you were staying at his chateau. Please explain," the Captain said, and it wasn't a request, but an order.

Athos said, "I will explain, but outside of the room, if it is all right with you, Captain."

Treville's eyebrows went up, but he didn't say anything, just nodded.

Athos looked to Porthos and d'Artagnan, and said, "Come get us if he awakens," before following the Captain out the door.

A little later, sitting in the parlor downstairs, Treville had his head in his hands after hearing Athos relate what they had been through. He had told Treville before beginning that he wanted to tell him elsewhere so that, if Aramis had awakened, he wouldn't upset him again by hearing it.

"How bad are Aramis' injuries?"

"He nearly did not pull through, Captain. They practiced utter brutality and cruelty towards him to get the information they wanted. He was badly beaten, not once, but several times at least. He has four broken ribs, and two that are badly bruised. They broke his cheekbone, and we are lucky the large bruise on his forehead didn't give him a concussion or worse. But they were just getting started.

They used a heated poker on his upper body, burning him over and over, both with the point and the flat of it." Treville was getting to the boiling stage, keeping his temper with great difficulty.

"They somehow found out that where they were imprisoning Aramis had been discovered, and managed to move him before we got there. A friend of Saintonge's brother had a hunting lodge they took him to, knowing the friend was on a long stay in Paris. They they thought they would have an uninterrupted time and place to continue their torture. This time, they used a leather belt on his back, with the result that his back is covered with welts and massive swelling. Still, he gave them nothing. We were following the cart tracks to find them, when Saintonge realized where they must be going and led us there. He fought alongside us, Captain, and he was the one who finally killed his brother, when Nicholas was using Aramis as a shield to try to get away. He killed his own brother to save our brother's life."

Treville had seldom been as angry as he was now, with what had been done to Aramis. That one of the King's subjects would have the nerve to kidnap and torture one of his Musketeers was outrageous. Everyone knew that if a soldier was captured by the enemy, it might happen, but for a Frenchman, and a member of one of the oldest and most distinguished families in France, to have done it was the outside of enough.

"How is Aramis now? He was unconscious when I saw him."

"We believe now that he should recover, Captain. It will take some time, as he is still in a great deal of pain, both physical and from the nightmares he is having reliving what was done to him. Saintonge has told us we can stay as long as needed, and told us to just let him know if there is anything at all that we might need. He has told us we have complete freedom within his house while we are here."

Treville said, "He has tried to make up in some way for what his brother was guilty of, as he probably feels responsible for not knowing what he was up to all this time. He has shown true nobility of mind and heart, and I will make sure Louis hears about it."

Athos said, "There is one more thing, Captain. The first time Aramis was attacked, he was thrown down a steep embankment and hit his head on the rocks lining the river below. From that time, he has had no memory of his past life." Treville's face was a picture of shock as he heard this. He thought to himself, "I can't lose Aramis, one of my best Musketeers, almost like a son to me." Athos continued, "But Aramis' God must have been watching over him, because before dawn this morning, his memory came back, somewhat dramatically, I must say."

Letting out a deep breath, Treville said, "This has been an unbelievably dramatic time all the way around. It goes without saying that I am profoundly grateful that his memory is back. Let us go and see how he is."

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When they returned to Aramis' room, they found that he was just as they had left him.

Treville said, "It is probably the best thing for him. Rest is healing. I am going to find Saintonge and thank him for all he has done. I will return afterwards. Take good care of him," indicating Aramis, knowing full well that he couldn't have pried them away from him if he had tried.

No more than ten minutes after he left the room, Aramis began making restless movements, and they hoped he might be waking up.

They all gathered around his bed, and Porthos sat down on the edge, saying softly, "Aramis, 't's Porthos, mon ami. Open those big brown eyes, all right?"

A moment later, Aramis responded by sleepily opening his eyes, looking straight into the concerned eyes of Porthos. Porthos could see the pain and exhaustion residing in his friend's eyes, and said, "Would you maybe want some water?"

Aramis blinked, then slightly nodded, even that movement causing a wince from him.

Porthos lifted him up slightly, and Athos held a cup to his lips. Aramis was able to swallow a few times, before stopping. Porthos laid him back down against the pillows gently.

Aramis looked at each one of them with a slight smile. Then, a confused frown replaced it, as he haltingly asked," How ... did this ... happen?"

They weren't sure what he meant, so Athos asked, "How did what happen, Aramis?"

"This," he said, his eyes looking down at his body.

"You do not remember?" asked Athos, all of them wondering at the question they had been asked.

"No," he said, his voice full of confusion and pain.

"What is the last thing you do remember?" Athos carefully asked.

"See ... seeing Porthos ... sh...shot," Aramis responded, still having trouble thinking about his friend being shot.

"Before that moment, what do you remember last?", Athos continued.

Aramis was silent for a long few moments, his brow furled as he fought to remember.

"Walking."

"Do you remember where you were going?"

Aramis said slowly, "To a ... village. Black ... blacksmith. Horse."

Athos and his brothers were adding two and two together, and realizing Aramis had got his memory back, but now had no memory of anything that had happened during his amnesia. All the memories of the actual torture he had gone through were vanished, even though when he was asleep, he had vivid nightmares of what had been done to him. But when he was awake, he didn't know why he was in pain and barely able to move.

But they also didn't want him to know a piece of his recent past was missing. They knew their brother, and figured he would worry about why he didn't remember. He was too exhausted and in pain, and wasn't out of the woods from his injuries yet. They just wanted him to concentrate on getting well, and thought they could deal with this new revelation when he was firmly on the road to recovery and not in so much pain. His tormentors were dead, so he had no one to fear now.

Athos took the responsibility to respond once again, saying, "That was exactly where you were going. I had told you to find the blacksmith to reshoe your horse. You are coming along very well, brother. Now, would you like to try eating something for us if d'Artagnan can coax the cook into preparing something this late in the evening?"

Aramis nodded, wanting to try to do what his brothers asked of him, knowing they wanted him to gain some of his strength back. Too tired to keep thinking about his memories, he closed his eyes for a moment. Athos and his brothers looked at each other, knowing that down the line, the subject would come up again. But for now, they just wished for their brother to be at peace as much as possible and heal.


	29. Chapter 29

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Mattieu had been quietly keeping track of their guests' days, and how the injured Musketeer was faring. When he heard that Aramis had regained consciousness, but was so severely injured that his friends were still not sure of his recovery, his impatience soared. He knew he couldn't do anything while they were still in residence at the chateau. If Saintonge were to discover his actions, at the very least, he would be out of a very lucrative position, one he had worked his way up to over the years. It could also be even worse. Attacking a King's Musketeer came with penalties he didn't want to pay: at the very least, prison. If one of them died, hanging or another form of execution would be his lot. But he didn't have much choice. If his part in what had happened so far ever came to light, he would still suffer prison or death. Angry that the Musketeers wouldn't be making an attempt to travel back to Paris for some time yet, he left the chateau with a scowl on his face. Patience was not a virtue he willingly accomodated, especially not in this case. But there was absolutely nothing he could do until the wretch grew stronger, so he would bide his time.

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The morning sun was barely beginning to light the room when Aramis again began to awaken. He no sooner made the slightest movement than the eyes of four men opened, focusing their attention on him. Seeing them, he gave a slight smile. Instantly, his brothers and Treville surrounded his bedside, broad smiles greeting him.

"Captain," he said, and they had to strain to hear him.

"Aramis, how are you feeling?" Treville asked.

Attempting to move slightly, Aramis gasped as pain rippled through his body. Closing his eyes against it, his breathing coming faster, he still tried to say, "Fine," but it came out as a mere breath.

Instantly, all of them tried to calm him down, Athos saying, "Stay still, Aramis. It's all right," stroking his hair with one hand, while grasping his hand with the other. Porthos had hold of his other hand, d'Artagnan and Treville laying theirs on his legs, all letting him feel their touch in an attempt to give him comfort and strength fighting against the pain.

Athos, speaking again for all of them, said, "You do realize you are 'not' fine, do you not?", humor laced with anguish that his brother was suffering so much. They would all willingly have taken some of the agony on themselves to spare him the suffering that was so very evident before them.

Athos, who had been concerned ever since they had rescued Aramis that he had not eaten in a long time, asked him, "Do you think you could try getting some hot broth down, Aramis? You have had nothing to eat in a very long while."

Aramis gave a very slight nod, being careful not to move too much, as it triggered waves of agony in his torso.

D'Artagnan left once more to collect meals for his brothers. Athos just hoped that he was able to come back before Aramis was out again. He tried teasing his brother, hoping to keep him alert for the time being.

"I finished that book of poetry that you were so interested in, Aramis."

For a moment, Aramis' brow furled, as he tried to remember what Athos could be speaking about. Then, a slight smile quirked up his lips, and he said, "My brother, the unexpected romantic," his words no more than a whisper.

"I can lend it to you if you would like to read some of them," Athos offered. "I could also read one to you every now and then as you recuperate, if you would like."

Aramis, knowing his brother, was surprised that Athos would do that for him, considering how private Athos usually was about private matters. But he gave a small nod of his head in thanks for the offer.

A knock came on the door, and Dr. Everard entered, accompanied by Marie-Louise. He came forward, as she remained by the door. Her eyes were fixed on Aramis with such a look of sadness and compassion.

Dr. Everard greeted everyone, then turned to his patient, saying, "Monsieur Aramis, it is very good to see you awake. I have come to check on you, and change your dressings. How do you feel today?"

Aramis was silent a moment, then quietly said, "Not too good," his voice remaining with no strength at all. His brothers knew how bad his pain must be if he said this, as they knew their brother. He always downplayed his injuries, not wanting his friends to worry about him. For him to say what he had, they couldn't imagine what he must be going through.

As Dr. Everard got out his scissors and reached for the bandages, Athos and Porthos both grabbed a hand to support Aramis, knowing it would increase his pain. Aramis couldn't help letting out a low whimper as the burn wounds were uncovered. The doctor nodded as he examined them, saying, "There is no sign of infection. That is very good, as it would have appeared by now."

He quickly and quietly worked, spreading a new poultice on the wounds, and covering them with a temporary bandage, as he needed to have Aramis turned on his side to examine the wounds on his back.

Snipping the bandages, he lifted them and exclaimed aloud, quite upset at what he saw. Athos and Porthos hearts clenched when they saw what had caused the doctor's worry. Infection had definitely set in, the wounds red and angry. As soon as he lightly touched Aramis' back, he moaned in pain.

"We need to put some of my salve on these to try to counteract and reverse the infection." Putting some on his fingers, he tried to apply it as gently as he could, knowing that it would still cause agony for the wounded Musketeer.

Aramis' breathing was now fast and erratic as the pain grew worse. His eyes were tight shut, and tremors were beginning to move through his body.

Dr. Everard finally finished, and laid a hand gently on Aramis' shoulder, saying, "I have finished. We are going to fight this and win, young man. You hear me?" but Aramis didn't appear to be aware of anything but the fire in his body.

"Doctor, would it be all right if we tried to give him something to eat? We have no idea when he ate last, and d'Artagnan went to get some broth for him," Athos asked.

"I think it would be a very good thing if you could get him to take some of it, even a few mouthfuls, Monsieur Athos. Please put some of this in one of the spoonfuls you give him," handing him a small bottle. It should help a little with the pain he is experiencing. I will return again tomorrow, but if anything happens before then, know that I will come at a moment's notice. Good day," the kindly doctor said before lightly touching Aramis once more on the shoulder and taking his leave.


	30. Chapter 30

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Aramis had been able to take a few spoonfuls of the rich broth before his eyes closed once more. He passed an increasingly agitated day and night as the infection-induced fever gradually increased throughout his body. His brothers, joined by the Captain, had been taking turns at his bedside while the others got a few hours of sleep the day before, but none of them would leave his side now, needing to be as close to him as possible. They were greatly concerned that the infection could take too great a toll on his already-ravaged body. As he tossed his head and his body shook with the force of the fever, loving hands attempted to reassure and soothe him. He obviously kept having nightmares, as he would call out in despair from them, thinking he was still being hurt. His body was beyond exhausted, and still the strength of the infection warred within him, causing the pain in his brothers' hearts to skyrocket.

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Towards mid-afternoon of the next day, as four utterly worn Musketeers drooped in their places around his bedside, feelings of both fear and hope struggled within each of them as they saw his body finally become still. Not knowing if the fever had finally left their brother in peace or claimed a tragic price, Athos slowly reached out his hand to Aramis' neck to check his pulse.

It was a beautiful thing to see: the smile beginning to radiate over Athos' face as he looked up at each of his brothers in turn. "His fever has broken! He is asleep," which immediately spread that smile to the faces of the Captain, Porthos and d'Artagnan, as well.

Porthos got some wet cloths and began gently wiping away the accumulated sweat from Aramis' face and body, taking care not to wake his sleeping brother. All of them stayed by his side for several more hours before Aramis finally showed signs of waking.

Just as the sun was beginning to go down, Aramis began struggling to open his eyes.

Porthos softly said, "Aramis, it's Porthos, mon ami. Would you open your eyes for us, please?"

After a few moments, Aramis' eyes sleepily opened, looking up to see all three of his beloved brothers leaning over, smiles covering their faces.

Athos said, "You did it, Aramis. We were a little worried about you, but you beat the infection."

As Aramis tried to shift his body a little, and instantly cried out, Porthos worriedly said, "Stay still, Aramis. Your body will heal. Just give it a chance, all right? It's too soon t' be givin' it exercise yet," he said with a grin.

Treville spoke up, saying, "You are our medic, Aramis. What do you always tell us when we are sick or injured? Rest. Please take your own advice," said with a teasing tone in his voice.

The exhaustion in Aramis' eyes was very much evident, yet he wanted to speak. "Where am I?", he asked.

D'Artagnan told him, "At the chateau of Saintonge, where you were cared for once before. They have opened their home completely to us. His physician has been caring for you, and you are going to be fine now," he said with another huge smile, something none of them could keep from their faces.

Athos asked him, "Would you like to try again to eat, Aramis? Then, you can sleep again."

Aramis wearily nodded slightly, wanting to do whatever his brothers thought best for him.

D'Artagnan once more left the bedroom to visit the kitchens, opening the door to leave and finding Dr. Everard just raising his hand to knock.

The bustling physician came into the room, and seeing Aramis looking at him, smiled.

"So my patient has beaten the infection. Wonderful! Let me see how your injuries are doing, young man," reaching out to lay a reassuring hand upon Aramis' shoulder.

The medic in Aramis tensed slightly as the doctor began to cut through the bandages around his torse. Athos and Porthos, who had each grabbed a hand in support, could feel those hands tightening as the bandages were gently opened.

Dr. Everard, closely inspecting the burn wounds on Aramis' chest first as he had done before, said they were still healing nicely. He told Aramis they were painful, but that the terrible burning sensation would gradually ease up. The broken ribs would need time and cautious movements to knit back together. Then, he asked Porthos and Treville's assistance in turning Aramis on his side, to check the welts and swelling of his back where the infection had centered. He told them he was pleased, as the infection had calmed greatly, and looked to be on the mend. Using a soft wet cloth, he gently washed away the salve he had put on them during his last visit,and replaced with a fresh layer. The tightening of Aramis' hand in the hold of each of his brothers told them the wounds were terribly painful yet. But Aramis maintained silence during the ordeal, except for several moans he couldn't help letting escape his lips at the painful process.

Lastly, the doctor checked the broken cheekbone, pleased that it was beginning to heal nicely.

He turned to Athos, handing him a small bottle. "Give these to him before he goes to sleep each time. They should ensure that he does indeed sleep peacefully, which is paramount at the moment."

Gathering up his supplies, the little doctor headed for the door, saying, "If you keep this up, young man, you should heal very nicely. Just do not overdo anything, and get as much rest as possible. Oh, and try to eat as much as you can," winking at Athos as he left.

D'Artagnan returned with the food a few moments after the doctor had left. Porthos gently lifted Aramis slightly, Athos making sure the pillows at his back supported him. Even the slightest movement, however, was still painful, as they could see from the expression on Aramis' face. He didn't say a word, however. He was determined to cooperate with anything to facilitate his healing, and food was something required for that.

He surprised them and finished nearly all of the bowl of broth before shaking his head at the last of the bowl. Looking up at each of them, he softly said, "Thank you for my life, brothers. I didn't...", pausing, with difficulty, he continued, "I didn't know if...if I would make it this time," finishing in a barely audible voice full of tears.

Athos said, "We only did what you have done countless times for us, brother. And we are very pleased to see you awake and with us again."

Porthos told him, "Just don't do it t' us again, you hear? It's too hard on this 'eart o' mine," said with the beginnings of tears in his own eyes.

D'Artagnan told him, "You do know we love you, don't you, Aramis?" with a twinkle in his eye, amidst the tears all of them were making no attempt to hide now.

Treville said, "Just follow the doctor's orders, Aramis, and you will be better before you know it," patting him on the shoulder.

Aramis felt truly blessed with the friends he had. He didn't know what he had done to deserve them, but knew they felt the same way about him. Slowly closing his eyes once more, he fell into a peaceful sleep. The medicine Athos had quietly added to the broth he had eaten may have had something to do with it. They decided to again spend the night around his bed, still feeling how close they had come to losing him, and needing to be near him yet.

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The next morning, Aramis awoke quietly, smiling to see Treville and his brothers grouped around his bedside. Only Treville was awake, but the others were all touching some part of him so they would know he was peacefully sleeping.

He hesitantly asked Treville, "Is Nic...Nicholas gone?"

All it had taken was the first word for everyone to come wide awake.

Athos answered before Treville, saying, "Nicholas and Blackbeard are dead, Aramis. Blackbeard, I am pleased to say, died at the end of my sword. Nicholas was shot and killed by Saintonge when he attempted to escape using you as a shield. He killed his own brother to save your life, brother. We are profoundly grateful for what he did."

Aramis was silent a moment, stunned at what Saintonge had done for him. He knew it was nearly unheard of for an aristocrat to save the life of a commoner over his own brother. Saintonge was truly a good man, and Aramis vowed to keep the man and his family in his daily prayers in return for the gift of his life.

He was surprisingly clear-headed, given what he had been through. His body protested the moment he attempted any movement, but at least his mind was his own again, for which he was very grateful.

Athos spoke up, saying, "Let us get you some breakfast before Dr. Everard visits us again, shall we?", smiling at the pained look on Aramis' face at the thought of going through one of the good doctor's ministrations again.

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Mattieu, who couldn't find any unobtrusive way of visiting the sickroom of the Musketeer, kept his eyes and ears open for any news of the man's condition.

That morning, he finally had something to 'celebrate' about: the Musketeer was finally on the mend.

"Soon, I have my turn," he muttered to himself as he left the chateau to begin his daily routine as estate manager. "You will be avenged, Nicholas."


	31. Chapter 31

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The next morning saw Marie-Louise bring breakfast for them all. With Aramis' tray in her hands, and two maids at her side carrying the other trays, she opened the door. Athos, Porthos and d'Artagnan woke instantly when the door started to open.

Marie-Louise smiled at them and said, "Good morning to you all. I hope you do not mind my bringing breakfast this morning?"

Athos said, "It smells delicious, mademoiselle. Thank you."

Porthos had already laid a gentle hand on Aramis' shoulder to awaken him. "Breakfast, mon ami. Can you open those eyes for me, please?"

Aramis blinked several times, then came awake trying to get up.

"No, no, Aramis, not a good idea," Porthos soothed. "Everything is all right. Marie-Louise brought us breakfast, 'n it's not easy eating while sleeping," grinning as he said it.

Fully awake now, Aramis looked at Marie-Louise, puzzled as to who she was. Marie-Louise, seeing this, felt hurt rise up inside. He didn't know her!

Athos, seeing all this and realizing why it was happening, asked to speak to her outside in the hallway. Once there, he told her Aramis' memory had come back, but now the time period of his amnesia was gone from his mind. "I do not know if it will return, but for the moment, he does not remember his time here at all. I am sorry."

Marie-Louise took a deep breath, and opened the door once again. "Monsieur Aramis, it is very good to see you beginning to recover. I am Marie-Louise, the Comte de Saintonge's cousin. I have been praying for you, and it pleases me greatly that you are awake again. I have brought you some breakfast. Please let me know if you need anything else."

Aramis smiled and said, "That is very gracious of you, mademoiselle. I hope I have not been a bother while I have been here."

The formality of his words, spoken as if he did not know her, hurt deeply. Setting the tray down near the bed, she hurried from the room before anyone could see the tears welling up and threatening to spill down her face. She realized then just how much she cared about him, and he didn't know her at all any longer.

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Mattieu sat in his office mulling over possibilities. A mild poison, or something that would make them sleep to render any resistance impossible for these Musketeers? Some sort of bomb or maybe muskets when the actual attack took place? Should he bury their bodies in the hills somewhere where they would be unlikely to ever be found, or leave them out in plain sight, and make the site suggest bandits had attacked them?

He knew he had several days yet to decide, as the Musketeer was in no shape yet to be traveling. He had heard Marie-Louise talking with her maid, as he had become quite adept at eavesdropping. Everyone thought him such a harmless individual, who just went about following orders and keeping the estate running smoothly. They would never think him capable of cold-bloodedly plotting the murder of King's Musketeers, would they? He chuckled coldly as he patted himself on the back for the double-sided life he was leading. No one would suspect a thing.

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Aramis slept a good deal of the next two days, waking for short periods to eat. His brothers still stayed near him, content to feed, wash and comfort him when the pain, which had not died away yet, would get to him.

Treville, in the meantime, very glad that his sharpshooter was clearly beginning to recover, had left to head back to Paris, not wanting to leave the garrison without its captain for too long. He told them before he left to take as much time as Aramis needed before begin the journey back.

The next morning after they had breakfasted, Athos felt it was time to come clean to Aramis about his missing memories. He didn't feel right about keeping it from him any longer. Porthos and d'Artagnan agreed that they needed to let him know. None of them knew how he was going to take it, however.

Sitting down at the edge of the bed, Athos spoke to him. "Aramis, I need to speak with you about something. Are you tired? It can wait if you need to rest."

Aramis, looking into Athos' eyes, could see something troubling his brother. They all knew each other so well, and could read emotions without ever a word being said. Nodding, he said, "What is it, brother?"

Athos hesitated now that the time to actually tell him was upon him.

Aramis laid a hand gently on his arm. "Athos, it's all right. Whatever it is, I can take it."

Athos began, "Aramis, when we were talking with you about what you remember ... there were things... things you did not remember. We did not want to cause you any more upset. You were fighting so hard just to stay alive at that point, and I ... I thought it could wait until you were stronger."

Stopping, he squeezed Aramis' hand, needing to feel the slowly returning strength of his beloved brother.

Aramis could see that whatever was troubling Athos was serious. He said, "What is it, Athos?"

"You had said the last thing you had remembered was Porthos getting shot. Before that, the last thing was walking to a village for a blacksmith. Do you remember anything else yet?"

Aramis frowned as he thought, slowly shaking his head. A question was forming in his eyes as he looked at Athos. "Part of my memory is still missing?"

"Yes, Aramis, it is. You were walking to the village to find a blacksmith as your horse had thrown a shoe while we were heading here, to Saintonge's estate, to bring some letters to Saintonge from the King. You never made it to the village. From what we have learned since, Nicholas' men, led by someone we called Blackbeard, accosted you on the road, thinking you witnessed an attack on a young woman made by Nicholas."

Aramis was struggling to accept the fact that he didn't remember any of this. Even while Athos was telling him, it didn't reveal the memories.

Athos continued, "They believed you were lying when you said you had not seen anything. They knocked you unconscious, stripped you of your doublet to hide that you were a Musketeer, and pushed you down an embankment. You landed on the rocks beside the river, and we believe that is how you lost your memory."

As he said this, something flashed through Aramis' mind: waking up groggy and in pain by a river. But that was as far as the memory went. He said quietly, "Please, go on."

Athos began again, "Some men from the village found you, and took you to a woman who assisted in childbirths, as the village had no doctor. Her name was Amelie, and she took very good care of your injuries. Twice, Blackbeard's men attempted to kidnap you, but were unsuccessful. We finally brought you back to Paris, to the garrison, to continue healing."

Aramis slowly shook his head, saying, "I do not remember any more than waking up at the river." He was very troubled by the missing pieces of his life, Porthos squeezing his hand in support, while d'Artagnan was tracing gentle circles on his shoulders to calm the troubled thoughts they could all feel coming from him.

Athos continued, "When we were back in Paris, we had all gone to The Wren one night when you were up to it. The Red Guards started a fight, and you definitely had our back on that one. You did not remember your life as a Musketeer yet, but your instincts were still there, including your fighting skills.

You came to my rescue with your fists, and dispatched someone who came close to killing Porthos by sending your main gauche into the man's shoulder. But when you decided to familiarize yourself with Paris the next morning by going for a walk, those same Red Guards saw you and took their revenge. They beat you and took your body outside Paris, depositing you on the side of a country road. Marie-Louise, Saintonge's cousin, saw you, and brought you here. She had Saintonge's physician attend you, and she personally took care of you. Nicholas had been traveling with her, but didn't know who you were. He just wanted you out of here, as he thought you were beneath her to be taking care of you, so he had his men come to take you back to Paris. Aramis, the men were led by Blackbeard, who recognized you instantly.

They dragged you to the dungeons, and hurt you very badly. Then, they moved you when we came to the estate, afraid we would find you. But we did find you, and in the process, Nicholas, who was using you as a hostage to get away, was killed by Saintonge himself.

I am so sorry I could not tell you any of this until now. We were in so much fear that you wouldn't make it to tell you before."

"How long?" Aramis asked.

Not quite understanding the question, Athos asked, "How long for what?"

"How long was this period of my lost memory?" Aramis asked in a small voice, almost like he was hesitant to find out.

"About two months," Athos replied. Aramis just lay stunned. His head was whirling with all that he had just heard. Two months of his life were missing, people he had interacted with he didn't even know. Two different women had helped to save his life, and he couldn't even remember their faces. And all he could think of was...Why?

Looking at each of his brothers, he whispered, "I have to get home. Please?"


	32. Chapter 32

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Aramis' frustration over the lost memories ate away at him. He wasn't angry with his friends for not telling him. He knew they loved him as much as he loved them, and he knew they didn't want him to be upset while his life was hanging in the balance. He just didn't understand why that piece of his life was eluding him. He felt so bad that Marie-Louise and Amelie gave so much of themselves to take care of him. He could see the sadness in Marie-Louise's eyes the few times she had been up to help with meals, and it hurt to know he was the cause of it. He could only imagine the other 'angel' who had opened her home, and given of herself, caring for the unknown man who had been brought to her bloody and unconscious.

And all this had been caused by a man who took what he wanted whether it was given or not, causing heartache and shattered lives in his wake. He wondered if Fleur would recover mentally from the attack. It would be easier to heal physically, than to have the memory of someone's cruelty. She had been an innocent victim, and sadly concluded there were probably a number of others they would never know about across the countryside. It was just too easy for a bored nobleman to take what he could force from the people, mostly poor and defenseless, who lived quiet lives in their small villages. People who did not have the same recourse to legal protection as the wealthy and powerful.

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For the next week, Aramis slowly began building back some of his strength. He ate everything they put before him, and lay patiently as his injuries were checked and rebandaged. He took the pain medication, and one to assist him in sleeping.

Towards the end of the week, he took his first steps in some time ,leaning on Porthos as he made his way towards the chair by the window, slowly sinking into it at last. Looking out at the grounds of the estate, he found it was worth it to be able to drink in the beauty before him: acres of green grass, punctuated with floral and herb gardens, and shaded by the spreading branches of ancient oak trees. He had always been a lover of nature, and it was a small feast for his tired eyes.

A hesitant knock on the door drew his attention, and Marie-Louise quietly opened the door. Seeing him up and seated at the window, she smiled.

"I am so happy to see how well you are doing, Monsieur Aramis," she said.

"Please come in," Aramis said.

When she had come to stand beside him, he said, "I am so sorry I have not recognized you, Mademoiselle Marie-Louise. I understand that you saved my life some time back, and I want to thank you. Most of my memory has come back, but that time of my life up until my brothers came to rescue me are still unknown to me. I wish it weren't so, but I seem to have no control over some of my memories yet."

He sounded so sad at this, that Marie-Louise hastened to reassure him that at least he did remember most of his life now, which was a blessing.

"Yes, it truly is. To have had my brothers beside me and not known them must have hurt them very much. I can just put myself in their place and know how I would feel in the same circumstances."

She said, "My cousin, Edouard, and I are so sorry for what Nicholas did to you. He always had a troubled personality, but we did not know the capability for violence that he had. You are such a very good man, and what he did to you was unconscionable."

"Neither of you was to blame. The man had many problems that he hid very well, from what my brothers have told me of him. You and your cousin have done so much for me, and for that, I will be eternally grateful to you both," he said, taking her hand and placing a light kiss upon it, then smiling up at her.

She left the room feeling much more light-hearted than when she had first come. He was really going to be all right, and she gave a silent prayer of thanks for that blessing.

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Aramis was still sitting at the window when Porthos came back into the room. Going over to Aramis, who was starting to fall asleep, he gently raised his brother and guided him back to the bed, saying, "No overdoing it now, mon ami. Get some rest. It's the best thing for you, 'n you, bein' themedic, know that. How many times have you lectured us 'bout that?"

Keeping up the steady stream of light, teasing banter, he had Aramis tucked in, and was turning to take a seat, when he heard Aramis sleepily murmur, " Tyrant!"

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Mattieu met with the men he had hired at a tavern in the nearby village later that evening. The men had expressed their willingness to do whatever his money was hiring them for. Scruffy-looking, with dirty clothes and hats pulled down over their eyes, he wondered briefly what other jobs they had previously been hired for. He wouldn't want to meet any of them in a dark alley, that was for sure. Only the fact that they had made clear they valued the money he promised to pay them gave him any trust in them at all.

"So what're we bein' hired for?" the skinny one with the missing eye wanted to know, speaking for all of them.

"I have several people that I need eliminated. They have caused me no end of trouble, and I want them killed. I am paying you very well to follow my instructions. Do you understand?"

"Who are they?" the skinny one asked, seeming to be the volunteer spokesman for the group.

"That is nothing you need to know, other than for you to see them when I point them out to you. There are four men, one of them not in the best of health. You will come to the grounds of the chateau as they are leaving. I will show you who they are. You are to follow them to a place I will indicate to you, where I will cause a small accident to halt their progress. The place chosen will be ideal for your purposes of attack. I want all of them dead when you are finished. None of them are to be allowed to live. Is that clear?"

The men shrugged, as if it was an ordinary occurrence in their lives to be hired to kill people. Mattieu wondered again how many people had hired them in the past to do such nefarious deeds. His sources had told him they were ruthless and good with weapons, both qualities he had been looking for. He needed men who stood a chance against the elite King's Musketeers.

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Next morning, Porthos assisted Aramis to dress, then Aramis,with a hand on Porthos' arm, walked slowly to the door and down the hallway. By the time they had gone to one end of it, Aramis was breathing heavily, so Porthos turned him around and came back to his room, sitting him in the chair by the window once again.

Aramis didn't want to stop, disregarding his heavy breathing and saying he was fine. His brothers had learned the hard way over the years that Aramis was not necessarily fine when he said the word. He just hated to have to stay still and recuperate. He would enforce rest and sleep for his patients, but never for himself.

Athos, coming into the room with d'Artagnan and hearing Aramis say 'fine', said to him, "Would that be fine like the time you were wounded in the leg, and expected us to believe it when we could see it bleeding on the ground? Or how about the time you said you were fine with that fever, and then fell off your horse? Brother, we want you to be fully recovered as much as you do, but in its proper time. Injuries such as yours do not heal overnight. The more you take care of yourself and let us help you to do so, the sooner you will actually be 'fine'. Now-rest!"

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At the beginning of the next week, Athos made the decision that Aramis was able to travel. When Saintonge was informed that they were planning to leave the next day, he insisted they borrow his carriage for Aramis to travel in. They were very grateful for the loan of the carriage, all except Aramis.

"I am well enough to ride a horse. I am not a maiden to travel by carriage to Paris," he protested. But his brothers dismissed his prognosis of himself, as they had when he said he was 'fine'. They were glad he would have it a little easier traveling, and wouldn't be enduring the rougher ride in the saddle.

Porthos 'escorted' Aramis out to the carriage, while Athos and d'Artagnan saddled the horses, and loaded two hampers of food in the carriage that Marie-Louise had insisted they bring along with them. She stood at the carriage door to say a final goodbye, a little misty-eyed that they were leaving.

She wished then a safe journey to Paris, and then, leaning through the carriage door, gave Aramis a soft kiss on his cheek, surprising him, and his brothers as well. Then, she turned and fled into the house. Athos, Porthos and d'Artagnan just looked at each other, saying, "You have not lost your touch, brother!". He had the feeling he was going to be teased all the way back to Paris now.

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None of them noticed a small group of men partially hidden around the side of the house, as Mattieu pointed out to them the object of their attack. He also informed them that he had made a small 'adjustment' to the carriage earlier that morning, as well as a bit of a 'contribution' to the food in the hampers. They watched the carriage and horses leave, then mounted and followed at a distance. They had been told to hold off any thoughts of attack until they reached the area Mattieu had decided on for it.

Mattieu had a evil grin on his face as he went to the stable to saddle his horse. He intended to 'supervise' the men he had hired, wanting to watch as his plan finally unfolded, after he had been forced to wait for so long. 'For Nicholas,' he said to himself.


	33. Chapter 33

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They hadn't gone very far before Porthos was alongside the carriage, looking down and in to ask, "Everything all right?"

Aramis, buried under multiple blankets against the chill morning air, smiled and nodded. Porthos looked satisifed, and rode on ahead.

A few miles further, and Aramis saw Athos in much the same location and position, asking, "Do you need anything?"

Shaking his head with another small smile, Aramis smiled inwardly also, thinking "mother hen" brothers.

A little while later, just about when he was forecasting it would happen, d'Artagnan leaned in to say, "We will be stopping for a short rest just ahead. We can look into the hampers and see what there is to eat. All right?"

By this time, Aramis was trying hard to keep a straight face. But he also knew just how loved he was, that same love he had for each of these very protective brothers of his. He nodded his thanks, and d'Artagnan kneed his horse to move on ahead.

Shortly afterwards, the carriage stopped, and Porthos was at the door to assist Aramis down.

"Porthos, you do know I have two legs, don't you?" Aramis teased.

Porthos, looking totally serious, said, "We nearly lost you, Aramis. And you're no' totally recovered yet, you know that, don't you?"

Aramis just allowed Porthos his way in silence, the little smile still playing around the corners of his mouth.

D'Artagnan pulled down one of the hampers, and brought out cheese and freshly-baked bread, the smell waftly through the morning air to increase their appetites immediately.

Aramis made a soft groan when he shifted to find a more comfortable position on the log he was sitting in. Instantly, he felt three sets of concerned eyes looking at him. "I won't break. I just needed to get more comfortable, and moved the wrong way. It's all right," he said, looking at each of them in turn. They nodded, not saying anything, and returned to eating.

After they had finished, Porthos was right at his elbow to 'escort' him back to the carriage. Aramis rolled his eyes, but allowed Porthos to play nursemaid again.

He understood very well his brothers' attentiveness, and knew that if their positions were reversed, he was the biggest 'mother hen' of all. He got teased for his attitude when his brothers were injured or ill, but they understood that it was because he loved them so much, and losing one of them would be like losing part of himself. So he knew they felt the same way about him, and this was one of the closest calls he had ever had.

For a time while he was being held captive and tortured, he had thought deep down inside that he might not make it out alive. The helplessness and pain were overwhelming. And when he had seen Porthos 'killed', as he had believed, whatever hope he had still held had almost slipped away entirely. But they had been tenacious, his brothers, and he thanked God for their attentions then, and now, and also gave thanks for the infinite gift of his friends, his brothers.

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Porthos, riding alongside Athos, turned his mind to his brother, not that it had been very far from it for some time now. It had been such a close thing, finding Aramis in time. He thought he would never forget the sight of Aramis, bound and gagged, his body a bloody mess of cuts, gashes and burns, a dagger at his throat-and the crazed eyes of Nicholas in back of him. That was all he remembered before his body was slammed into the wall from the bullet hitting it. Sometimes now, he just needed to go check on Aramis, to see that he was truly alive and with them again after the trauma he had gone through.

He knew Athos and d'Artagnan felt the same way, as he saw how their eyes kept drifting over to the carriage as he did, and how they made the same excuses to poke their heads in the carriage door from time to time. All for one, he mused, and felt a little peace in his world once again to be heading back home to Paris united again.

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They had been traveling for a while when Aramis, his curiosity aroused, decided to look into the hamper to see what else Marie-Louise might have had put into it for them. His eyes lit up when he saw the strawberry tarts tucked into one corner of the basket. He remembered how good they were when he had eaten them at the chateau, and pulled one out to eat now.

Leaning back against the cushions of the carriage seat, Aramis fully enjoyed the second tart he had pulled out, letting the sweetness of his treat linger in his mouth before swallowing it, silently thanking Marie-Louise for her kindness to him and his brothers during their stay there. As his back rested against the seat, he felt the painful sensations in his back from his healing wounds. Sighing, he wondered when the pain was going to finally leave him.

Shortly afterwards, he drifted off to sleep.

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Mattieu's men had been quietly following the Musketeers at a distance far enough away not to attract attention.

One of them was grousing, and saying, "Why don't we just get them now?"

The leader turned to him, and growled, "Because we were paid to do this in a certain way, and at a certain place. We are not there yet. You do want to get your pay, don't you?"

The man sullenly nodded.

"Then be quiet and do as you're told. We will be there soon enough, and then we will all be paid most handsomely."

Turning his horse back around, he led them away, headed for Mattieu's ambush site.

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Mattieu, following his men at distance, as well, approved of the way they were following his instructions. They had no idea he was in back of them. He figured they just thought he would stay behind in his office, and they would report to him later that all had gone well. But he remembered how Nicholas had thought his men had things well in hand, as well, and he thought, 'look at how that turned out'. So he wanted to see for himself how things happened.

He was so close now to having his revenge, and he thought to himself,'how sweet it will be'.

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They were just about halfway back when Aramis awoke. He felt very groggy, like he was still halfway asleep, but the motions of the carriage had awakened him. The vehicle was beginning to shift slightly back and forth, an odd, disjointed movement. He vaguely wondered if something was wrong with the carriage, but was too sleepy to think too much about it. As the movements back and forth increased, he felt a sense of alarm beginning, but the pull of his body towards sleep was overwhelming, and he drifted off again.

Aramis' brothers had been riding in advance of the carriage. D'Artagnan had heard a slight sound that attracted his attention, so was the first to see what Aramis had felt. He shouted at the others that something was wrong with the carriage. As Porthos and Athos turned at his shout, they all stared in horror and screamed "Aramis!", as the carriage rocked back and forth again, then tilted to one side, and went over the side of the road down the hill.


	34. Chapter 34

I thought I had better work on this next chapter as soon as possible after what I did to all of you in the last one. But as I wrote, I realized I would be doing it again in this one!

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Racing towards the side of the road, they looked down to see the carriage had landed at the bottom of what they discovered was a deep ravine. Frantically looking around to see the best and safest way down, they saw a small track a short way to the left. Mounting back up, they hurriedly moved to descend down the path. Their horses picked their way along the narrow path, which was strewn with rocks and sharp stones.

Once down at the bottom, they raced across the ravine to the carriage, which had landed on its side in the dirt. The carriage horses were screaming in pain as they lay on their sides. When Athos saw the state of the horses' bodies, he pulled his pistol, and d'Artagnan followed suit. They needed to put the horses out of their misery, so they wouldn't suffer any more.

They quickly joined Porthos when the gruesome task had been carried out. Reaching out for the handle of the carriage door, Porthos hesitated, suddenly afraid of what he would find. Finally finding his strength of mind again, he yanked the door open. Their eyes searched the inside of the carriage, but their brother was not there!

"Where could he have gone?" Athos worriedly said. "Did he walk away from the accident? We need to spread out and search for him quickly. From the look of this carriage, he may be ... injured, and just trying to get away from the accident. We will each radiate out from a different position to cover as much ground as possible."

They began moving away from the carriage, calling Aramis' name as they went. Hoping they would hear their brother's voice, only silence and the calls of nesting birds replied. Refusing to give up looking, they continued searching, convincing themselves that Aramis had kept moving, hoping to find help.

But at some point, they realized that he could not have gone even as far as they had searched. If he had, they would have been able to see him on the way down, or would have heard movements. But they had seen and heard nothing.

They returned to the carriage, trying to think of where to look next. A slight twig snapping was all the warning they had before they were ambushed, Mattieu's men finally given rein to attack.

Dodging the flying bullets, the Musketeers realized their attackers were coming from the same direction they themselves had come, using the same narrow path. Moving behind the bulk of the carriage, they returned fire with deadly effect, hearing the screams of two men almost simultaneously hit by their bullets.

They didn't know how many men were involved in the attack, nor did they know who the men were. But Athos was steaming inside as he fought. Who else could it be but Saintonge? It was his carriage that had been obviously sabotaged. Who else knew they were even traveling through here? Did he resent having had to kill his own brother, and arranged a deadly payback?

Firing again, almost in frustration at being delayed in searching for their brother, Athos took aim and another of the attackers was killed.

The men must not have had a system of dividing the loading and firing, because the gunshots slowly trickled into silence. Then, suddenly, a number of men were racing towards them, swords drawn. They were masked with their hats pulled low over their eyes, protecting their anonymity, and Porthos muttered, "Mercenaries!", as he and his brothers rose to their feet, swords drawn to meet their adversaries in closer combat.

Rapiers clashed and steel rang as the Musketeers and their foes fought furiously. But as the attackers slowly began to realize, Musketeers were highly skilled fighters, and the mercenaries were,from the first, unevenly matched. Athos, as he so frequently did, toyed with two men attacking at once. He acted as though it was not much of a challenge, but then, remembering that they needed to end this as quickly as possible to look for their brother, with no effort whatsoever, began moving so swiftly with his rapier that the two men had no chance. He skewered one through the chest, and slashed backward in the same movement, hitting the second man high in the shoulder. With a scream of pain, the man abandoned the attack, and retreated as quickly as he was able, back the way they had come, clutching his shoulder. Another man replaced him, but he was even less of a threat to the brilliance of Athos's swordplay, as he ran him through almost as soon as the man began.

Porthos had slammed the hilt of his rapier against the head of one of the men he was fighting, dropping him out to the ground. Throwing his sword to the ground, he beckoned to the other one with both hands, saying, "Come on!" The man, a big burly man, swung at Porthos, and hit nothing but air. Porthos may be very big, but for such a large man, opponents were frequently stunned by how light and fast on his feet he was. He punched his opponent in the stomach, then knocked him out with a fist to the head. Rubbing his hands together, he looked around to see where he was needed next.

D'Artagnan had grabbed hold of a low-lying branch, kicking both feet out at one of the men who had charged at him, staggering the man. Quickly moving forward, he thrust his sword in quickly, ending the fight with his blade going through the man's side. Turning quickly, he parried the thrusts of the other man's blade as the two fought furiously, neither getting an advantage as they seemed evenly matched. But as they fought on, d'Artagnan suddenly saw an advantage, and darted behind a tree, only to come out the other side slashing through the man's thigh. The attacker, as Athos' man had done earlier, screamed and retreated as fast as he could hobble back up the hill.

The brothers looked at each other, breathing a little harder, but not having even been winded by the men who had attacked. They were left with no idea who they were or where they had come from, although Athos still was having dark thoughts about Saintonge for now.

Deciding to take one last look inside the carriage before spreading out in search again, Porthos suddenly said, "Look here!", holding up the Crucifix the Queen had given Aramis, the one which always hung around his neck. "Where did he go?" Porthos sounded so confused and, at the same time, frantic, at their brother's disappearance.

Athos, who had kept his suspicions silent until now, spoke, saying in a low, deadly voice, "The only one who knew where we were going was Saintonge. And it was his carriage. He also has the money to hire mercenaries to do his bidding. I find it hard to believe he would do this, given the fact that he killed his brother for Aramis, and because of all his kindnesses towards us while we stayed with him. But if I find that he was behind this, he will answer personally to me for this."

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The Musketeers began to go back over the same terrain they had already covered in their search, hoping that they had missed something, something that could give them a clue to what had happened to Aramis. But an hour later, they were just as frustrated and worried as when they had begun.

They had once again gathered next to the carriage to discuss what else they could do.

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Mattieu had reached the ambush site and saw the remnants of his men scattered and fleeing. He was furious. This was not what he had paid them so much of the money he had fleeced from Saintonge's estate over the years to do. He almost pulled his pistol and shot at them in frustration, getting hold of himself at the last moment. That is all that would be needed to have three very irate Musketeers come after him.

He stayed where he was, hidden on the hill on the opposite side of the ravine, watching as the Musketeers searched. What were they searching for?, he wondered. The wounded one! The carriage had crashed, so where had the fourth Musketeer gone? Or was he lying dead somewhere, he hoped. Finally, he pulled out his musket. He would do it himself, if the men he hired couldn't carry out a simple plan of attack.

Raising his gun to his shoulder and sighting down the barrel, he aimed directly at the man he knew to be the Musketeers' leader. All on his own, he would do better than trained mercenaries, he thought, as he prepared to fire.


	35. Chapter 35

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A few seconds later, a shot was heard, and an agonized cry as the bullet found its mark. A body tumbled down the slope, coming to rest at the bottom of the ravine.

The Musketeers, seeing the body, followed the line of trajectory up the other side of the ravine. What they saw froze them where they stood. A man's body was slowly sliding over the side of a ledge halfway up, and even from a distance away, they could all see the tell-tale azure blue around the man's waist.

"Aramis!" they all screamed out at once, as for the second time that day, they watched something unfolding before them that horrified them. Aramis' body kept sliding, then all of a sudden, jerked and lay still, hanging partway off the ledge. The body was still, too still they thought.

All three of them leaped on their horses and galloped up the narrow path they had come down, caution thrown to the wind in their panic to get to their brother in time. Reaching the top, they moved across until they were directly above the ledge they had been unable to see until a few moments before.

Leaping from their horses, Athos pulled a rope from his saddlebag and began issuing short, emphatic commands.

"D'Artagnan, get your rope out, too, and tie it to the pommel of your horse," doing the same with his rope to his own horse as he spoke.

"When I reach Aramis, Porthos will give you the signal, and start backing the horses away from the ledge." He said this as he walked towards the ledge, tying the rope around him as he spoke.

Reaching the edge, he didn't even hesitate before going over the side, kicking off the wall with his feet and dropping this way a few feet at a time.

It only took a few moments for him to reach the ledge. He saw Aramis immediately, and his heart clenched when he saw how precarious his position was. He would have to be very careful maneuvering around the small ledge so as not to put his brother in more jeopardy than he was in already.

On the small ledge was an ancient tree, and Athos surmised that it was the reason they had not spotted Aramis before now. If he had been between the tree and the wall of the ravine, he would have been hidden from the view of anyone down below. Aramis' pistol lay discarded in the dirt.

Hurriedly scanning the surface of the ledge, he saw that what had stopped Aramis from sliding further, probably to his death, was the vine from the tree that his foot had become entangled in. But the thinness of the vine told him they needed to get him free and out of there as quickly as they possibly could. It wasn't going to hold him indefinitely.

Moving as carefully as he could, he approached his brother. Aramis was not moving, and was possibly unconscious. From what, Athos wouldn't dwell on right now.

Sliding the loop of the rope as cautiously as possible over Aramis' feet, he moved it slowly up his legs to his waist, where he secured it firmly, before pulling his main gauche and cutting the vine. Aramis' body jerked a few inches more over the side before the rope pulled taut and stopped him.

Nodding his head up to Porthos, Athos waited for the horses to begin pulling them slowly up the side of the ravine. Athos had never felt such relief as when he saw the top of Aramis' head appear on the ledge. His eyes were closed, and he looked completely unconscious. Athos put his arms firmly around Aramis' waist as they pulled by the horses to move up the wall towards Porthos.

At last, they were close enough for Porthos to grab Aramis and pull him up to safety. As soon as he made sure Athos got safely over the ledge, too, Porthos grabbed Aramis in a gentle bear hug as if he would never let him go again. Aramis remained completely unresponsive. Athos was uneasy about that. What was causing this? They knew nothing about the tarts.

When d'Artagnan had put the ropes away and taken care of the horses, he hurried to Aramis' side. "Is he all right?", he asked, seeing no movement from his brother and the worried looks on Athos' and Porthos' faces.

"He almost seems drugged," Athos commented, frowning. "Let us get him comfortable, and then check for injuries."

D'Artagnan spread a blanket on the ground, and Porthos laid Aramis gently upon it. He and Athos began removing Aramis' doublet and shirt to see if he was injured. They found quite a few bumps and bruises, probably from banging into the sides of the carriage as it lurched over the edge, and again when he hit the ledge when he tumbled from the carriage door. "There may be a couple of bruised ribs, but they are definitely not broken, for which we should be very thankful. But how did he escape major injuries in this kind of a fall? It is almost unheard of to escape this easily. And what is causing his unconsciousness?" Athos wondered, voicing the concerns they all shared about their beloved brother, who had already been through such trauma.

Deciding to make camp there and move on in the morning, d'Artagnan brought their saddlebags over, then descended to the carriage to get the rest of their supplies and bring them up. Before he got the supplies out, he decided to go check and see about the gunman Aramis had killed.

The man was lying face down in the dirt. D'Artagnan turned him over, and stared. It was Saintonge's estate manager, Mattieu, who had asked him about how Aramis was while they were staying in the house. Was Athos right about Saintonge then?

Just as he was coming back to their camp, he heard riders galloping rapidly towards them. He drew his pistol, and saw that Athos and Porthos were crouched protectively over their inert brother, their own pistols drawn, as well.

Coming into sight, they instantly recognized Saintonge at the head of a group of riders.

Athos, aiming his pistol at Saintonge, said, "Come no closer."

Saintonge, a confused expression on his face, nevertheless halted his horse and slowly raised his hands, the other riders doing likewise.

"I have come to warn you of possible danger," Saintonge said.

Athos replied, "And how do we know you are not the source of the danger?"

Saintonge, looking shocked, responded, "My cook came to me to tell me my estate manager was seen putting something on some strawberry tarts she had made. He did not see that he was observed and left when he was finished. She thought it was rather odd, but it was not her place to question him. He has a reputation for dealing rather severely with those who question him. When she was sure he had left the house to resume his duties, she came to me. I, too, thought it was odd, but by that time, you had already left."

"Then, one of the stableboys told me Mattieu had been seen in the stables working on the underside of the carriage. That, together with what the cook had said, caused me to gather some of my men and come after you. Are you all right?", looking down at Aramis as he spoke, concern very evident in his voice.

"Aramis very nearly died a short time ago when your carriage began wobbling, then plunged into this ravine behind us. Then, some men attacked us while we were searching for him."

D'Artagnan spoke up. "Athos, I just discovered that the man Aramis shot is the estate manager, Mattieu. I recognized him from encountering him in the hallway while we were staying there."

Athos looked again at Saintonge, saying, "I see that I owe you an apology. You were indeed riding to our rescue, for which we are very grateful. Our brother has apparently ingested some of whatever your late estate manager put on the tarts. You wouldn't happen to know what it might be?"

Saintonge shook his head. "My cook just saw him sprinkle something white. But he put the bottle in his pocket when he was finished." Looking at Aramis, he asked, "Was he injured in the accident?"

Athos said, "No, he has bruised ribs, and quite a few bumps and bruises, but nothing life-threatening. We have been wondering what is wrong, as he has not awakened since the accident. Now, I am wondering if he ate one of the tarts in the basket, and is drugged by it. And you are sure you do not know what it was?"

Saintonge shook his head, saying, "I truly wish I did." Straightening in the saddle, he asked, "Would you care to return with me to my home while we try to figure out what is wrong with Monsieur Aramis?"

Athos shook his head, responding, "We will camp here for the night. Hopefully, Aramis will awaken, and we can ask him if he partook of the tarts. If he becomes worse during the night, we will take you up on your offer. And our sincere thanks to you, and regret at wondering if you were behind the events here. Have a safe trip back."

Saintonge nodded his head,and wheeling their horses around, the group returned the way they had come.

D'Artagnan had brought the basket of food from the carriage, and had pulled out the wrapped tarts. Pulling one out, and looking at it, he brought it to Athos. ,

"You need to see these," holding one out to him.

Athos looked at it, saw tiny grainy white spots on it, and leaning down, sniffed it. Wrinkling his nose, he said, "I'm not sure what this is, but it has a strange odor to it. I do not recognize it, however. At the very least, it could be a sleeping powder. But we do not know. We need to keep a close watch on Aramis. If he exhibits more symptoms, we may have to search for a village and a doctor-fast."

Shortly afterwards, Aramis began to wake up. Porthos spoke softly to him, "Aramis, wake up, mon ami. We need to see those brown eyes looking back at us," he teased.

After a few moments, Aramis' eyes sleepily opened, looking around him in confusion.

Athos smiled at him, saying, "It is good to see you awake again, Aramis. How do you feel?"

"Tired," Aramis whispered.

Porthos said to him, "Would you like some water?", to which Aramis nodded.

Porthos lifted him slightly, and Athos put the waterskin to his lips. But after a few sips, Aramis drooped, unable to drink any more.

They were concerned by his dilated eyes, and inability to focus on anything. It caused them to wonder again if he had been drugged.

"Aramis," Athos asked, "do you remember eating any tarts from the basket of food?"

"I ...," Aramis began, when his eyes suddenly rolled up in his head, and his whole body went limp in Porthos' arms.

"What on earth did that man use on those tarts?" Athos said worriedly. "The man is dead, so we cannot get the information out of him, so we do not know what it is going to do to our brother." The Musketeers gathered around their beleaguered brother, had no idea of how to counteract what he had been given, and would have to pray that it wasn't a lethal dose, whatever it was. They were used to being able to deal with most situations: fighting, negotiating - but this was frightening, as they didn't know what they were facing.


	36. Chapter 36

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They were starting to make camp for the night when d'Artagnan got an idea. "You know, we are not very far from the village where that healer lived in that took care of Aramis before. We could see if we might impose on her again?"

Thinking it a good idea, especially to get Aramis into a warm bed while he was unconscious, they prepared to set out again. The village was indeed not far from where they were, and soon, d'Artagnan was dismounting at the door of Amelie's cottage and knocking at the door.

When she opened the door, she was greatly surprised to see them again, but her face revealed shock when she saw Aramis, eyes closed, limp and unmoving on Porthos' horse, held in the saddle by his brother's strong arm.

"Bring him inside quickly," she said. Athos dismounted, and, coming to Porthos' horse, caught Aramis as Porthos lowered him gently down from the horse, before dismounting himself.

They carried Aramis between them into the house, and to the little room he had occupied once before. Amelie had gone ahead of them, turning down the blankets and plumping the pillows. They laid Aramis down, and she immediately began checking him for injuries, before Athos stopped her, laying a hand softly on her shoulder.

"He is unconscious from something that was put into a tart that he ate. All the original men who were after him are either dead or in custody, but we did not know about one man who remained at large. He put either a sleeping powder or another drug of some kind in the tart. We do not know what it was, but it has been causing him to remain in this state since then. He was involved in a carriage accident, but we believe he did not suffer any further serious injuries, mainly bruises, including a bruised rib. But we have been unable to counteract this state that he is in."

She asked him if they had any of the tarts left with them,and they brought her the basket. She studied them for several minutes before saying, "I once worked closely with the doctor who used to live in this village. This powder looks much like the sleeping powder he sometimes gave a patient when they were in a lot of pain. It helped them to sleep. How long has he been like this?"

Porthos replied, "Most of the day."

"Then, if it is the same powder, he should be awakening by morning. Let us see, in the meantime, if we can get a little liquid into him. His mouth is very dry."

They supported him while Amelie coaxed him into swallowing some water. She said they could stay with him through the night, and she would check him in the morning. She seemed confident that he would be coming around by then.

Each Musketeer made themselves as comfortable as they were able and as close to the bed as they could get. Athos had moved a chair near the head of the bed on one side, Porthos on the other. D'Artagnan settled himself down a little further on a blanket on the floor. None of them wanted to be far from their insensate brother that night. As they always did for each other,they each found a place on Aramis to lay their hand, wanting to let them know they were with him, and giving them what peace of mind they could, as well. This way they would also know if he awoke during the night.

But when morning came with bright sunshine coming through the window, they found no difference at all in their brother's unconscious status.

Amelie came shortly afterward, not understanding why he had not awakened.

They were disheartened, fearing that Amelie had mistaken the powder as something she had seen before. What if it was indeed some sort of drug which might be harming their brother?

There was nothing else they could do other than wait. Porthos felt like punching a hole in the wall. He felt so helpless, knowing there was nothing he could do to help his beloved brother. Athos tried to think of anything they could try that had a chance of succeeding, wanting, like Porthos, to do something, anything. D'Artagnan, the newest of their band of brothers, looked from Athos to Porthos, and then down at Aramis, feeling just as helpless in the face of the unknown.

They finally settled back down in their places, not wanting to be anywhere else but beside their brother. Amelie brought a tray to them with breakfast laid out. None of them really felt like eating, but she told them, "He would be the first one to tell you it will not do any good to turn away the food you need to strengthen your bodies. In fact, from what I remember about Aramis, he would probably get rather upset with each of you?", she said, looking at each of them in turn.

Knowing how right she was, they reluctantly took a bowl each and finished her delicious porridge. She smiled as she collected their bowls on her return. She left with the bowls, and came back when she had taken care of the breakfast dishes.

She stood near the door, looking hesitant, but then spoke up. "I am wondering now if Aramis might not have eaten more than one of the tarts? If so, he will be out much longer than I had originally estimated, with a double dose in his system. It could be as simple as that as to why he is still asleep."

The hope in their faces did her heart good. They all loved each other so much, and it had to be extremely hard to sit quietly and do nothing while their brother lay as still as a stone. She sincerely hoped her words would be borne out in reality soon.

Towards noon, Aramis finally began to stir, restlessly moving his head from side to side. They noticed immediately, as they had been hoping against hope that he would revive soon.

Leaning towards him, Porthos called softly, "Aramis, can you wake up for us, please?", laying his hand gently on his forearm.

Aramis shook violently at the contact, suddenly saying in an anguished voice, "Athos! No, please, don't!" each word coming more forcefully than the last. He was now twisting back and forth as they tried to calm him down, calling out to Athos, terror in his voice.

Athos laid his hand against Aramis' cheek, saying quietly but clearly, "Aramis, I am here."

Aramis shook his head, pain in his voice, crying out, "He is dead. Athos is dead. I try...tried...too late...too late," his voice full of his grief for the brother he loved.

"Aramis," Athos said, "I am alive. I was not killed. Open your eyes and see, brother."

But Aramis was in the throes of the nightmare yet, thinking he had seen Athos shot and killed while he could do nothing about it.

His brothers were desperately trying to think of something that would get to him before he hurt himself from his agitation.

"Aramis, ask me something only I would know. Ask, Aramis, and see that I am truly here."

The question seemed to have penetrated Aramis' frenzied mind, as he quieted for a few moments. Just when Athos was beginning to think the idea wouldn't work, Aramis scrunched up his face and very hesitantly asked, "Book?"

Porthos and d'Artagnan looked at each other, then at Athos, the question making absolutely no sense to them. Athos looked just as puzzled for a few moments, before he realized what Aramis was probably asking him, and his whole face lit up as he said, "Ronsard, Aramis. Love Has No More."

Aramis went completely still, and then his eyes slowly opened, looking into the smiling face of his brother. "Welcome back, brother," Athos said.

Looking around, Aramis' eyes went from Athos to Porthos, then d'Artagnan, traveling back to Athos again. "I thought he killed you," he said, his voice still full of his pain.

"No, Aramis, you saved my life. The only person in the world who could make a shot like that saved my life."


	37. Chapter 37

This is the next to last chapter of Who? I feel so blessed with all your reviews/follows/likes/views/etc. It humbles me, and encourages me to keep writing and always to hopefully improve my work. I am already at work on the next story, and may have the first chapter for you by the end of the week.

"Why can't I remember?" Aramis asked, sounding confused that he had no memory of it.

"Aramis, do you remember eating a strawberry tart in the carriage?" Athos asked.

Aramis thought about it, and slowly nodded. "I actually ate two", he confessed.

"That explains it!", Porthos nearly shouted. "Two would have been far worse than one."

Aramis was looking at them, now thoroughly confused at both the question and the comment.

Athos explained, "Aramis, a powerful sleeping powder had been put into the tarts that you ate. It knocked you out. You have been out for two days, and we have been quite worried, as until yesterday, we did not know what the powder was, a sleeping powder or a drug of some other kind. We also did not know you ate two of them, which was why you were out for so very long. It gave us quite a scare, brother."

Aramis was again getting very sleepy, but he continued, asking, "Who would do such a thing?"

"It seems Saintonge's estate manager, Mattieu, had some kind of affection for Nicholas, and when he was killed, wanted revenge. The tarts were not the only thing he orchestrated. He hired men to attack us when the carriage you were in went over the cliff," then Athos stopped, as Aramis had fallen back asleep.

This time, the sleeping Aramis just made his brothers smile fondly at him. They couldn't wait to find out how he made it out of the carriage wreck without getting killed, but sleep was a powerful healer, and they just rejoiced that their brother was back with them.

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The sleeping powder seemed to have taken over again, as Aramis slept for many hours after his brief waking moments. His body never moved the whole time he slept, but the sleep seemed more peaceful this time, for which they were very thankful.

Towards evening, they heard a commotion outside, and with all that had happened in recent times, all of them drew their pistols as they headed for the door.

Before they could reach it, it suddenly opened, and they heaved sighs of relief as they saw Treville standing in the doorway.

He came into the room, heading right for the bed where Aramis lay. "How long has he been out?"

Surprised that he didn't ask them how he knew where they were, Athos asked, "How did you find us, Captain?"

Treville looked up, saying, "Saintonge sent word of what had happened, and we just followed your trail from the accident site until we reached the village. I knew where you would be as soon as I recognized the village. How is Aramis?"

He no sooner said this than Aramis began to stir, but it was not a restful awakening. Not all the way awake, he again began calling urgently for Athos, once again agonizing that his brother was in mortal danger.

Athos quickly sat down at his side. Taking his hand and laying the other hand gently to cup his cheek, Athos softly said, "Aramis, I am right here. We are fine now. We are at Amelie's house. Will you open your eyes for us, please?"

They were concerned that he seemed to be at the same stage he was the first time he awakened. They wondered if the drug had anything else mixed with it, but would not be able to find out until they got back to Paris.

Aramis slowly opened drowsy eyes, which first rested on Treville's concerned face. "Captain?"

"It is good to see you awake, Aramis. I have heard that you have had a rather difficult time of it lately," he told him, a deep concern reflected in his eyes as he looked down at the marksman he was so fond of.

"I'm fine, Captain," he whispered, earning him a snort from Porthos, and disbelieving looks from the rest of the Musketeers in the room.

A moment later, he was wildly looking around, calling out for Athos again. Athos, who had gotten up to get him some water, sat down on the edge of the bed again, and said, "Aramis, I am right here. I am fine."

Aramis quieted again upon seeing Athos, who asked him if he would drink some water for them. When Aramis nodded slightly, Porthos raised him up a bit. Athos gave him the water, and he drank quite a bit. Laying him back down again, Aramis was asleep moments later.

Porthos, a confused look causing him to lower his brows, asked, "What's wrong with 'im? Sleeping powders don't make your mind relive things like that."

Athos replied, "We do not know that a sleeping powder was all that was in the tart. We just need to keep a close eye on him until he seems all right again."

Porthos stayed at Aramis' side, while Treville and the others went out to the main room to fill the Captain in on what had been happening since they had last seen him. The story had Treville shaking his head.

"There seems to have been a whole den of criminals on the Saintonge estate. I will wager Saintonge will keep a much closer eye on all aspects of his property than it has had in quite some time," Treville said. "I will inform the King, and make sure he doesn't blame Saintonge for any of it, as he has tried to help as much as he could to make up for his errant brother's activities."

Athos said, "We are at a loss to know what is causing Aramis' behavior. He does not need this happening when he is still trying to recover from all he has been through. I have never seen someone keep imagining the same thing over and over like this, and he is so frantic, we need to keep a close eye on him to ensure that he does not injure himself further."

Treville was silent for a few moments, and then said,"I think I will take a couple of the tarts back to Paris now. There is a very highly esteemed physician that has just arrived to become royal physician, and maybe he can figure out what may be in the tarts. You three just stay here and take care of Aramis. I imagine, too, that you need a little rest from all the activities that you have been through, too. I will leave in the morning at first light."

Heading back into Aramis' room, Treville sat down at his bedside and took up the limp hand of his marksman, whispering, "I wish I could have spared you the pain and turmoil you have gone through, Aramis. We will get to the bottom of this last mystery, that I promise you," squeezing the hand gently before laying it once more on the bed.


	38. Chapter 38

This is the last chapter of Who? Thanks so much for all of you who have followed or reviewed my story. I appreciate it very much!

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Treville left as soon as the sun was up, heading for Paris as quickly as he could ride. With him, he brought two of the tarts, wrapped up snugly to keep them as fresh as possible for the physician to examine. He didn't know if the doctor would be able to figure out what was in it, especially after several days' time, but he was determined to at least ask the doctor to try his hand at figuring it out.

Aramis, before he was more than half-awake that morning, was agitatedly calling Athos' name, and nearly fell out of bed in his distress, Porthos just getting there before it happened. "He is all right, Aramis. Look!", Porthos sadly said, and Athos smiled as Aramis quieted once more at seeing him.

Athos and his brothers were at their wit's end trying to figure out what to do for Aramis. Each time he awoke, he thought Athos had been killed. Athos,for his part,refused to leave his brother's side. It was only seeing him that seemed to calm Aramis down. They figured it had to be something ingested, as he had not continued to do this when he had seen Porthos shot. They could only hope the Captain's hunch would give them some answers, or that Aramis would gradually come back to normal for them again.

Once he was again quieted, though, he acquieced without question anything his brothers asked him to do, which was unusual for the marksman/medic, as he was generally a bad patient. He always wanted out of bed way before he was well enough to do so. He usually didn't want to take any medicine, complaining about how bad it smelled or tasted, even though he was somewhat of a tyrant himself when he was the one taking care of them. But he ate and drank anything they put before them without question or even raised eyebrows, and didn't attempt once to leave his bed when their backs were turned for a few moments. This only made them worry more, not less, as it was not typical Aramis behavior.

His injuries were healing well, for which they were very grateful. The day came when they felt he was well enough to ride back to Paris with them, but in a cart, not on a horse. They thought he would protest a journey in the back of a cart, but to their great surprise, he once again did exactly as he was asked. They made a cushioned area for him to lay on, and he climbed into the cart without a word, sleeping throughout most of the day.

They made camp that night in a secluded area under some spreading oaks, and continued on to Paris in the morning. Aramis had no more episodes of distress during the trip. They were pleased at this, but didn't know if it was gone for good or not.

They rode back home into the garrison about midday. Some of the other Musketeers gathered to welcome them back, asking if Aramis was all right. With his ready smile and genial personality, he had always been popular with all the members of the garrison. Smiling, he assured them that he was well on the road to recovery.

He allowed Porthos and d'Artagnan to assist him out of the cart and up the stairs to his room. Athos was already there, turning the bedcovers down and putting a pitcher of water and cup beside the bed. Removing his doublet and boots, they started to gently push him back on the pillows, when the old Aramis suddenly showed up.

"You know I'm awake and can generally get into bed without assistance, don't you?" he teased them.

They were so startled by his comment that they just stopped and stared at him.

"I would have been able to pull my boots off and divest myself of my doublet, as well," he commented, with a hint of a smile playing around his lips.

Porthos looked at Athos, who looked at d'Artagnan, and then they all looked at Aramis, Athos saying, "He is back with us."

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Aramis looked at them in confusion, not understanding what Athos' word meant.

Athos explained, "Aramis, ever since the accident with the carriage, you've been unable to stay awake for more than a few minutes. When you were not conscious, you kept reliving Mattieu aiming a gun at me, thinking he fired and killed me. Do you remember the accident now?"

Aramis frowned, trying to concentrate and remember for them. After a few moments, his face reflected his thoughts, as he said, "I was ... lying on the ledge. The door to the carriage ... had been torn off. I ... had fallen out, but the ledge was there. I was barely ... conscious, but ... I saw him aiming his pistol at you."

"How did you get on the ledge, Aramis?" Porthos asked, a question all of them had wondered about.

"I ...", he stopped, frowning. "I don't remember. I ... just remember grabbing hold as well as I could. Then, ... I don't know how I ...". He was becoming agitated that he couldn't remember, and Athos laid his hand on his shoulder, saying, "It is all right, Aramis. We are just glad you are yourself again. You had us quite worried, brother."

"I felt my pistol ... underneath me, and I pulled it out. I couldn't see very well, ...I was dizzy. But... I had to ..." Athos once again stopped him, as he was clearly getting very upset reliving the scene. "You saved my life, Aramis. You are the only one who could have. It was an impossible shot,especially in your condition and where you were taking it from. I am very grateful," squeezing the shoulder he had never taken his hand from.

What ... what is wrong with me?", Aramis asked, not understanding the missing days and the constant sleeping.

"Mattieu put a sleeping powder in the tarts you ate. It would have knocked you out with one tart, but you enjoyed the first one so much, you had another. It just doubled the effect. You will be fine, Aramis. Go back to will not leave you here alone."

He had barely said the words when Aramis was asleep again.

Athos looked at his brothers, and quietly said, "It is a very good thing that Mattieu is dead. I would have taken great pleasure in doing the deed myself."

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Treville came a short while later. They all wondered if he had received an answer about the tarts.

He came straight to the point. "The physician thoroughly took apart and checked the tarts for their ingredients. You are not going to believe part of what I am going to tell you."

Three sets of eyebrows were raised at that comment. Their captain was not the dramatic sort, so the information the physician gave him must have been shocking.

He continued. "He recognized the sleeping powder, and he also said eating two of the tarts would have a very strong effect on Aramis, which we already know happened. He found nothing else in the tarts except nutmeg. But he informed me that nutmeg has been known to cause problems with the brain. It can cause a person to see things, experience things they would not have done without eating it. He believes also that Aramis may have some kind of allergy to the spice, which would have made it worse. Seems nutmeg can cause all sorts of problems in a person. He believes the powder combined with the spice caused Aramis' strange reactions, but he also said we can never know for sure, as the ingredients of the tart will have been long gone for him to check out. We can just be glad it did not kill him, as that is a possibility, although it rarely happens, with the spice. He said it can also cause problems with stomachs and the heart, but they don't know much about these problems yet. So Mattieu was guilty of the sleeping powder, but chances are the nutmeg was just a seasoning the cook included in her recipe."

His men looked stunned. "We better keep an eye on him when he eats, then. And ask what's in the foods, especially in the taverns we visit," Porthos said.

Treville asked, "How is he now?"

Athos responded, "He seems to be back to being himself again. He is just incredibly sleepy all the time."

Treville said, "The physician told me to just let him sleep as much as he wants. At this point, it will actually be good for him."

All four men looked down at their beleagered brother, and smiled wearily. He was sleeping, the peaceful expression on his face letting them know he was no longer experiencing the trauma of the past few days. They were profoundly grateful that he had made it through the preceding two months, and was himself again.

THE END

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According to several online accounts, nutmeg can also cause hallucinations, nausea, diarrhea, vomiting, as well as heart and nerve problems. Nowadays, doctors are finding a problem with people of all ages trying to use it to get high. Experts have even found that teenagers using nutmeg, along with magic markers and whipped cream among other household items, can cause seizures, cardiac damage and even something called sudden sniffing death syndrome. According to a doctor at the Central Ohio Poison Center, : "One minute, they're alive and abusing the product and in the next, they've dropped dead." (ABC news report)


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